


Across the Universe

by Khaelis



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Academy, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Best Friends, Dark Doctor (Doctor Who), Discovery, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fairy Tale Elements, Fear of Discovery, First Kiss, First Meetings, First Time, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Friendship, Gallifrey, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Mild Blood, Mild Smut, OTP Feels, Partial Mind Control, References to Depression, Regeneration, Romance, Romantic Soulmates, School, Sexual Content, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, Strangers to Lovers, Telepathy, Time Lords, Young Rose Tyler, young doctor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-19
Updated: 2018-10-22
Packaged: 2019-02-04 12:20:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 85,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12770940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khaelis/pseuds/Khaelis
Summary: The little boy born on Gallifrey knows his soulmate is somewhere, sometime, out there.The little girl born on Earth doesn't know her life has always been tied to another.The little boy just needs to find her.The little girl just needs to wait for him.[Prompt-Fic | Soulmate AU | Ten x Rose]





	1. Two Lives, One Destiny

**Author's Note:**

> Hello dear readers!
> 
> I have started another story (because obviously having two works in progress is not enough) ;  
> It's a soulmate AU that I'm really hoping you will like, because I'm putting my heart and my guts into this, and I'm trying really hard to give you something enjoyable to read!
> 
> This is a proper first attempt at writing this kind of AU - I have never even read this kind of AU - so, I apologize in advance if this does not correspond to what you can expect from a soulmate AU (you can, however, give me advice and critics so I can get better at it).
> 
> Side note: I have made some research on the differences between Time Lords and Gallifreyans, and it seems the subject is still much debated over today, so: in this work, Gallifreyans are the inhabitants of the planet Gallifrey, and Time Lords are Gallifreyans who have gone through the Academy curriculum and passed the test to earn the title.  
> It think this information might make some of this work a bit clearer.
> 
> Apart from that, this work does *not* follow the canon story of the Doctor.  
> I have built him a background and invented quite a few things, especially when it comes to his childhood on Gallifrey and the cultural stuff of the planet.  
> The characters obviously are rather OOC, more particularly in the first chapters, but I suppose this was bound to happen with a story like this one.
> 
> However, I try to put a few references to the DW canon, like lines or little things you can find in the show (eg. "rude and not ginger" because this always cracks me up).  
> Try to find them all and win a cookie!
> 
> The length of this story remains a mystery as of yet, because my ideas have currently no end. Rest assured, however, that it will be updated regularly and completed.
> 
> Anyway, without further ado, here comes the first chapter!
> 
> Enjoy your reading, and please, let me know what you think, and don't hesitate to give me critics - positive and more particularly negative so I can improve! :)
> 
> Thank you very much for all the comments, kudos, bookmarks, etc., I'm so happy to see you enjoy this story I didn't really believe in!  
> I love you all!

* * *

 

 

The bright yellow leaves of the wheat caressed his palm, tickled his skin. Sometimes, his small fingers would hook around an ear, unwillingly plucking out a few grains. He didn’t mind. He knew the grains would give birth to new plants, eventually. His feet, protected by a thin layer of grey cotton that matched the material of his dirty tunic, ploughed the dry earth at each step. He wished he could run faster, and he wished he hadn’t been unlucky to be born with a defect that had gifted him with crooked knees. If he managed to pass the examination, graduate, and thus be granted with a few regenerations, maybe he would regenerate into a better body. A healthier one. And a prettier one, too. He hated his face. He had never thought much of it when he was younger, but as soon as he had started going to the Academy, he had become self-conscious. A downpour of scorn and mockery at his snub nose, his big mouth, his hollow cheeks and his thick eyebrows had rained down on his fragile shoulders from the moment he’d stepped in his classroom. It had taken a mere few days for his effervescent and joyful character to be smothered down with a dark veil of diffidence and modesty.

 

That was why he liked it. Running through the fields of bloomed wheat in the summer, where the plants were high enough to mute the sneers and the laughs, far enough to keep the disdainful faces out of sight. Peaceful. Comforting. Liberating. 

 

His lungs expanded, filled with fresh air, and he accompanied the frightened chirping of the birds taking flight at his approach with a loud hoot of his own. His bowed legs wailed in protest when he took a sharp turn to the right, but it was another kind of pain he was too used to to care. The deafening sound of the leaves brushing against his head and of the wind blowing in his ears suddenly died down, as soon as he emerged from the edge of the field and stopped dead in his tracks, bending forward with his hands splayed on his deformed knees. The only sound that remained was the heavy puffs coming out of his mouth, the pounding of his double-heartbeat in his skeletal chest - a heartbeat he had trouble getting used to - and the blood rushing in his veins to keep his muscles oxygenated - he also had trouble triggering his respiratory bypass system when he needed it. Unfortunate, but then again, fortune had never quite been watching over him ever since he’d been born.

 

His eyes lifted up to observe the dark, tiny entrance to the cave he liked to call his  _ refuge _ , and a smile tugged at his lips. With a giggle that had a scared mouse scurry away in the field behind him, he spurred his legs into a trot that took him to the cave. The hole that pierced the rock at the bottom was the only way to penetrate into its confined intimacy, and it was just large enough to let his skinny body slither through it. His hands entered first, fingers finding purchase around smooth stones anchored in the humid earth so that he could pull the rest of his body inside. It was dark, only lit by the thin stream of light coming through the slit in the rockwall, but he knew his way around that cave like the back of his hand, if not even better. He groped his path to the oil lantern he had hung on a hook-shaped stalactite, bowing his head or bending it on the side whenever he had to avoid treacherous lengths of rock falling from the ceiling like sharp blades. His fingers went to the small wooden box tucked in the makeshift belt he had tied around his waist to hold his too-large tunic in place - an uncouth rope he had stolen on a bag of vegetables. The box was carved with Gallifreyan motifs he was quite unable to translate, and he flicked the small lock open with his thumb. He carefully picked one of the few matches he had left, stroke it on the side and used it to inflame the burner.

 

Shadows danced on the asperities of the walls - sometimes, his hearts would stutter in his chest at the impression that someone had managed to enter his refuge, but it was always short-lived. No one ever came. No one would ever come. He adjusted the size of the slow burning flame and gave an appreciative hum when he was satisfied with the dim light shedding its orange color in the cave. 

 

He sat on the small cushion he had snatched in the Library of the Academy, in front of the improvised desk made of a simple wood plank. Out of habit, he rolled the moth-eaten sleeve of his tunic to reveal his forearm. He loved seeing that mark there. A nacre, intricate pattern that reflected the soft light of the lamp. It was desperately still, and just as hopelessly flat and dull. Nothing like the marks all the others displayed with frivolous pride. It was supposed to shine, the lines were supposed to move under his skin, give the smooth, pale expense some relief. Signs that his soulmate was waiting for him somewhere. But, not unlike everything else that happened in his execrable life, something was amiss with his soulmark. He had looked for answers in books he couldn’t read, scrolls he couldn’t decipher, engravings he couldn’t make sense of - and, quite plainly, it hadn’t helped with his matters. He had almost given up on the hope for a better future when the Sage of his village had visited him on a dark winter night. They had sat together, face to face, by the fire roaring in the fireplace. And he’d listened to her. She had told him about the story of The Overseer, one of his ancestor that had walked Gallifrey at a time when the planet was only in its early decades. The Overseer had worn a mark just like his, that had remained dormant for centuries. He had travelled every mountain, every forest and every desert, in search of his soulmate, never to find them. One night, moments before he’d been about to commit the irreparable, a beautiful creature from another world had knocked on his door. His soulmate.

 

And it was on that night that he had decided never to let hope slip away from his fingers again. He had a mark. He had a soulmate. He didn’t know where they were, when they were, but he knew someday he would find them. He even considered himself lucky to have been blessed with an outworlder soulmate. It made him special. And that was the only thing that kept him going, the only piece of knowledge that would get him through the Academy curriculum and allow him to pass the final examination. And then, when he’d finally be a Time Lord and be gifted with his very own Tardis, he’d set out to travel the universe and find his soulmate - if they didn’t find him first.

 

He opened the heavy book on the wood plank, a small cloud of dust  rising in the air that made him forcefully rub his nose with the back of his hand to keep a sneeze in. Then, he picked up a blank piece of rough paper and his favorite, and only, quill. A jet black feather, so long that its tip tickled his jaw when he was writing, that ended with a golden nib sizzled with one of the few Gallifreyan symbols he knew of - a symbol that roughly translated into  _ Doctor _ . That quill was the only object he had inherited from his Time Lord father. He treasured it like a relique, even though he had found out long ago that it was just a worthless trinket, probably bought on a market in the pauperised neighbourhoods of the Citadel. And that was why he had decided that, when he’d finally be a Time Lord himself, he would chose a title that could be paired with his legacy. The Doctor. Fitting, he thought, given that he wanted to help people, heal them, make their life easier than his own. A title well-chosen he hoped he’d be worthy of - and to achieve this goal, he had to work.

 

He flipped through the hundreds pages of his book, some kind of Gallifreyan bible that gathered all the secrets of his language. Oh, he knew how to speak it, when it came to answering questions in his lessons he was always the first to blabber without end on the subject, and he could understand almost everything, save for a few words of vocabulary that were rarely used, even by the Elders. But he wanted to read it, and write it.

 

Often, he would dream of learning everything that could be learnt about the universe, the secrets safe-guarded among the stars, reading about them in the columns of books piling up in the endless Library. After all, he couldn’t risk disappointing his soulmate. He had to be able to talk about their home planet, lest he’d make a fool of himself, or even appear to be a rude and simpleminded alien.

 

And then, some other times, his soft and maudlin nature would take the upper hand, and he’d imagine writing down passionate odes and romantic poems that he would get to recite to his soulmate on the day they’d meet. After all, he couldn’t risk offending his soulmate with poorly chosen words. He had to be able to caress their soul and prove himself to be a kind and gentle lover, lest he’d ruin the only chance he might get at seducing them.

 

So, his hold tightened around his quill and his index ran on the yellowed page of the encyclopedia, before it stopped on the one word he’d been dying to learn for days. Dozens of circles, some full, some cut in two, some interlacing to create intricate rosaces. Dots that needed to be perfectly placed beside or within circle lines, thin segments that needed to be perfectly angled, with no other tool than the thick tip of his quill. He had always heard that it was a complex emotion, quite possibly the most complex of all, so he hadn’t been surprised to find out that this word was one of the most difficult to write. But he wanted, needed to master it. How could he demonstrate his love to his soulmate if he couldn’t write the word, let alone read it?

 

His first tries were hesitant, the lines jagged and uneven, the ink blotting all over the page in a mess of dark spots. Of course,  a compass would have made the task easier, but, of course, his had broken the week before and he hadn’t managed to gather enough credits to buy a new one - he would have gladly thieved one from the classroom, if only the teacher didn’t keep his vulture eyes on him at all times.

 

He kept trying, his hand gaining confidence minute after minute, the tip of his quill brushing against the paper instead of chiselling rivulets of black ink. After more than an hour, his wrist started to ache, and the flame from the oil lamp started to quiver, as if to warn him that it wouldn’t be long before it’d give its last breath. He didn’t give up. Soon, an impressive pile of used paper stood on the corner of his plank, and he picked the last sheet of paper to give the accursed word one last go.

 

His brow knitted in a frown of concentration, he wiped his clammy hands on the coarse cotton of his tunic and he bit the tip of his tongue between his teeth. He took a deep breath, and started drawing the outer circle of the word. He didn’t need to, because he had had enough time to learn the symbol by heart, but he still kept stealing quick looks at the book, just in case his anxious mind wanted to trick him. It took long minutes of nibbling his lower lip, cursing under his breath and abusing the corner of his page with sweaty fingers, but he eventually pressed the tip of his quill one final time. The last dot.

 

He dropped his black feather on the floor and lifted the page up to see it under the dying light of the lamp. His eyes flew from the paper he was holding to the open page of the book, once, twice, joy starting to bubble in the pit of his stomach as he realized that this last attempt was his best so far. Not only was it its best, but when he ripped the page of the book and stuck it behind his own to observed the differences by transparency, he realized that it was also perfect. A perfect calligraphy that could have put most of his tutors to shame.

  
  


“I did it!” he shouted as loud as his throat constricted with joy would allow him to. “I finally did it! Soulmate, I love you!”

  
  


He jumped to his feet and danced around his very own refuge with his achievement tightly pressed against his chest, his mind roaring a song that filled him with a felicity he had never had the pleasure to experience. Through his excitement and the heavy tears of joy rolling down his cheeks, he didn’t see the soft glow that shone from his forearm for a fraction of a second. 

 

The ten-year-old boy from Gallifrey missed the one moment his mark came to life for the first time in his morose existence, unaware that this tiny fraction of a second was a pin at the juncture of his timeline, and that of his soulmate. The very first time their lives would coincide in the immensity of time and space, and the last time for a few centuries. 

  
  


“I’m the Doctor, and I love you!” he giggled, dropping down on the humid earth.

  
  


He lied there for long minutes, the precious piece of paper cradled in his arm, as he tried to imagine what his soulmate would be like, would look like, would smell like, a fond and happy smile splitting his face in two. The flame of the lamp died in a soft breath, a murmur of relief and delight.

 

***

 

The heavy pink duvet felt too hot and she kicked it off her body with a disgruntled groan. She had never understood why her mother always deemed necessary to bury her under so many layers of sheets and covers that she more often than not ended up shoving away anyway. She was still hovering above the thin frontiere between shallow slumber and awareness, and she nestled her face deeper in her pillow, hoping sleep would get the better of her before she could wake up completely. The dim light of the moon filtered through the pale blue curtains of muslin that framed her window, just enough to tickle her eyelids and tear another groan of discontent from her mouth. She rolled on the other side, a yawn threatening to dislocate her jaw, and she willed her body to relax into the mattress. She didn’t fancy the idea of being tired the day later - it would be ill-advised to sleep-walk at her own birthday party. 

 

That last thought had tiny bubbles of excitement rise in her stomach, and it only made falling back asleep all the harder. With a sigh of defeat, she opened her eyes and pushed herself into a sitting position against the headboard. A quick look at the robot-shaped alarm clock on her bedside table told her that it was five to midnight. Five minutes until she would turn ten years old. 

 

She slid down the bed and tiptoed in silence to the window - the last thing she wanted was to wake her mother up and imperil the big birthday party she had planned. Without a sound, she sat on the window sill and pressed her nose against the cold glass of the window, looking up at the dark canvas of the night sky, sprinkled with hundreds of twinkling stars, the moon a tiny ping-pong ball that seemed to float over the far end of the capital city. She really hoped her mother had bought her the telescope she’d been asking for for weeks. Her fascination for the stars and the universe had no end, and she often imagined what it would be like to go up there, among all those little lights that seemed so close and were yet so far.

 

Another quick glance at the clock. Two to midnight. When she pressed her nose back against the window, she noticed the condensation that came with her breath. And she realized that she was humming. Her eyes grew wide under the fear that her mother might hear her, and panic seeped into her veins when she found it impossible to stop singing. She couldn’t even understand the lyrics to that song, couldn’t remember ever hearing it before, but her voice kept rolling down her tongue and flowing past her lips, against her best will. She clasped her hands above her mouth and retreated back to her bed, pressing her face against a heart-shaped cushion to keep the noise down as she fumbled around to draw the heavy duvet back over her body.

 

One to midnight. Her heart leapt into her chest when a second voice joined hers. A soft voice, a merry voice, probably belonging to a kid her age, most certainly a boy. Her eyes travelled around the room to find him - as if he might have hidden under her bed or inside her cupboard during the day and had waited until that moment to make a surprise apparition for her birthday. But there was no one in sight. The voice sung louder, so loud her body vibrated at each powerful syllable they ended up singing in chorus - and it was only then that she understood that voice wasn’t coming from the room. It was coming from inside her own head.

 

She could do nothing but listen to that voice, to the melody of the song, the beautiful words echoing against her skull in the most perfect and magnificent music she had ever heard. Before she could stop them, tears began to fall freely from her eyes, and her stomach swooped with a feeling she had never felt before. The song grew in intensity, building up in powerful harmonies that caused the next lyrics to flow past her lips in a choked sob. And, just as suddenly as it had started, it stopped.

 

Chest heaving and breath short, she looked at the alarm clock. Midnight.

 

If her arm hadn’t been trapped under her pillow, she might have seen the lines glowing under skin for a fraction of a second. But she missed it.

 

The ten-year-old girl from Earth missed the one moment that marked the beginning of something she was galaxies away from imagining, the one moment that pinned the exact time and place when her timeline crossed the one of the owner of the voice for the first time. The first time in her life, and the last time for a whole decade.

  
  


“Happy birthday, Rose Tyler,” she murmured to herself, gathering her legs close to her chest.

  
  


She wiped the tears that refused to dry on her cheeks with the back of her hand, and she went back to sleep. Unaware that lightyears away, millions of years in her future, a small boy her age was falling asleep on humid earth in a dark cave.

 

* * *

 


	2. Here Comes the Sun

* * *

 

 

_ Tap _ ,  _ tap _ , _ tap _ . From her seat, it was easy to get distracted, especially during a lesson she didn’t like.  _ Tap _ ,  _ tap _ , _ tap _ . Her eyes fell on a pearl of rain that slowly rolled down the window, gathering dust and dirt on its path, until a tiny nick cut it in half. One drop remained comfortably nestled in the nick, the other kept going, joining the same trickle one of its companion had embarked on.  _ Tap _ ,  _ tap _ , _ tap _ . Her attention was drawn beyond the frame of the window, towards one of the few old trees that dotted the playground. They were so ancient their roots had managed to make the hard concrete crack and to break free from its tight lock. The many rifts were overflooded with rain, and the water followed the same pattern as the one steadily dripping over the foggy glass.  _ Tap _ ,  _ tap _ , _ tap _ . She felt she could relate to that water. A free element that led a steady life when the weather was nice. The smooth surface of a lake, the lazy stroll of a stream in its riverbed, the soft ripples that coursed through the blue expense of a sea.  _ Tap _ ,  _ tap _ , _ tap _ . An angry, ruthless element that had to submit to the caprices of Jupiter when the God fancied producing a storm from the tip of his fingers. The lakes would stir into small waves that crashed over the shores of white pebbles, the seas would run riot and the ripples would turn into giant jaws that could swallow people alive, the rivers would evolve into torrents that could rip and uproot everything in its wild chase towards the ocean. And there was absolutely nothing water could do about it.  _ Tap _ ,  _ tap _ , _ tap _ . She was a bit like that. An element that was going through a pretty rough storm and had lost to the last drop of freedom it had possessed. She could only find comfort in the knowledge that every storm was bound to come to an end, at some point. 

 

_ Tap _ ,  _ tap _ … She looked down at the pencil she had been drumming on the edge of her small desk for long minutes, and a weary sigh left her lips when the pink rubber bounced on her desperately blank piece of paper, came to a stop, then initiated a slow descent she didn’t try to stop. She simple stared at it as it fatally reached the edge of the worn desk and fell on the floor. She sniffed, unconsciously wiping her nose with the back of her sleeve, and took a quick peek at her watch. Thirty more minutes to go. She looked at her maths teacher - an old, disheveled scarecrow with a bad habit of spraying too much cheap perfume all over her clothes, one of the reasons why her classroom had been given the sweet nickname of polecat burrow. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t find it in her to focus on any of her classes. Her voice was to monotonous, dull, her explanations were shadowy at best, indecipherable at worst, and her red pen seemed to never have enough ink left to write anything more than monosyllabic comments on their papers.  _ Good _ .  _ Poor _ .  _ Weak _ . She had long abandoned the wishful desire of getting anything better than a  _ poor _ , and had long given up the idea of pursuing anything maths-related anyway. She sniffled again and rubbed her nose a bit more forcefully.

  
  


“Tyler. Psst, Tyler!”

  
  


She looked at the boy her age that had probably missed a few steps in his development, given he was at least two heads shorter than anyone else in the class. Shorter, yes, but also the most formidable bully the class counted in its ranks - a mention of his name or of the muscles he had probably grown to compensate for his height was enough to make anyone frown in disgust or cower in fear. He bent toward her with a snicker falling from his rosy lips and he threw a small blue package on her desk, which rewarded him with a few giggles from his  _ posse  _ \- or so he liked to call the bunch of stupid boys that could have licked the mud he left in his wake with his soiled sneakers. She picked up the packet and turned it over in her hands.

  
  


“Your snout’s on its period again,” the curly-haired boy chuckled silently. “Might want to stick a tampon up there.”

  
  


She looked down at her sleeve and noticed the bright red stain that was spreading along the coarse meshes of her woolen jumper. Another blot of blood crashed over her blank piece of paper when she blew an annoyed sigh through her nose. With a resigned shake of her head, she shoved the blue packet in her pencil case and zipped it a bit more forcefully that she intended to. She was quick to stuff the few items she had deemed necessary to take out in her tiny backpack along with her raincoat, slung it over her shoulder and walked towards the door with purposeful strides, not bothered in the least that the lesson was only half-way through.

  
  


“Where are you going in such a hurry, Miss Tyler?” the old scarecrow asked with a frown of irritation.

“Infirmary,” she answered with a shrug, the blood-stained paper fluttering down on her desk. “Cerebral hemorrhage from all that crap that drips into my ears every time I walk in here. Sorry ‘bout that.”

  
  


She didn’t wait for an answer, ignored the cheers that followed her cheeky comment,  and fled the classroom before the almost senile teacher could do anything about it. Her brand new chucks squeaked on the dull green linoleum of the corridor as she made her way towards the nearest toilets. It would be ill-advised to wander in the school during lesson hours and the last thing she wanted was to get stuck in the headteacher’s office pleading for a case she was bound to lose. She dropped her backpack on the counter next to the sink and fetched some toilet paper in a stall. The sound of the running tap drowned the one of the rain lashing at the thin window as she cleaned the remnants of blood that had dried on her upper lip. She stuffed her nose with a bit of the rough paper and leaned against the counter with a heavy exhale that created a thick layer of condensation on the mirror. Her own eyes stared back at her, and she wondered if this truly was the image of a fifteen year-old girl. She certainly had a penchant for make-up - the more visible, the better. The smoky eyes were something she had always been drawn to, and she had to admit it made the deep whiskey colour of her irises stand out in the most beautiful ways. That was the only thing she liked about her face. The only thing she was proud of. Her nose was okay, when blood-soaked toilet paper wasn’t peeking out of her nostril. But her mouth was too full and her jaw too square, and that was something make-up couldn’t hide. 

 

She went to the window after making sure the bleeding had completely stopped, and hopped on the counter to get a better look at the same trees she had been observing back in the classroom. When the sun wasn’t drowned by dark, threatening clouds, she usually could see the birds caper from one branch to the other or fly in lazy circled above their crowns of bright green leaves, hear their merry chirps and tweets. She liked to imagine what it would feel like, to just go up there in the sky, feel the wind in her hair and the cold air on her skin. Sometimes, her reveries took her even further away from that boring earth she treaded everyday. Beyond the sky, through the stars, roaming around a universe for the rest of her days. That was dream she’d had on more occasions than one. Ever since her mother had given her that telescope for her tenth birthday, not a single night went by without her staring through the lense and trying to map all the constellations she carefully catalogued in a notepad. 

 

It must have had something to do with that recurring dream she had of travelling the immensity of space in her very own spaceship. The best part about that dream was that she never was alone. There always was this young man with ginger curls and dark green eyes travelling alongside her. A figment of her imagination that had become one of the few sources of comfort she could nestle into when her burdens became too heavy to bear on lonely nights. A figment of her imagination she had grown fond of over the years, something she prayed would grace her dreams every night before she slipped under her duvet. A figment of her imagination that was staring at her from the corner of a building on the other side of the playground, a goofy smile spread over his weird features.

 

Her heart missed a beat in her chest, then burst into a wild gallop that threatened to crack her ribs. Her eyes widened, so did his, with a disconcerting simultaneity. He had seen her looking back at him. 

  
  


“Fuck,” she cursed under her breath when he disappeared into a back alley. 

  
  


She rushed to grab her bag and dashed through the door, up the corridors, hurtled down the three flights of stairs that led to automatic door opening on the playground. She winced when the cold rain drenched her jumper within seconds and tried to limit the damage, holding her backpack protectively over her head. Her chucks were far from waterproof, and the puddles her heavy steps inevitably fell into were deep enough to make dirty water splash on the thin fabric of her shoes, seeping through the eyelets and soaking her socks. Her inner soles squished as she spurred her legs to run faster, despite the jeans that were now glued to her skin and hampered her movements. Soon, she reached the same corner of the decrepit building where he’d been standing, but he was nowhere in sight. The alley was a dead-end, there weren’t any doors, not even a sewer drain he could have crept into to hide from her. He had simply vanished into thin air.

 

She could have believed her imagination had once again played vicious tricks on her eyes, if it weren’t for the large piece of paper whose corners fluttered in the gentle wind, lying in the middle of the alleyway. She looked up to the corrugated sheet that hung low between the two buildings and thanked whoever might be listening that it protected the paper from the heavy rain. She crouched next to it and tucked the wet strands of her blond hair behind her ears to prevent any drops of water from maring the deep blue ink running over the page. She pinched one of the corners to get a better look at it, but that single contact was enough to make her gasp, a searing burn coursing through her forearm so unexpectedly she had to let go of the parchment. Her head shot to the side when she heard the bell ring, and she knew that, soon, the playground would be submerged by a crowd fighting to get a premium spot under one of the few covered areas. Such as the one where she was.

 

She quickly fetched her raincoat from her backpack and carefully folded it around the piece of paper. She got back to her feet, brushed the dirt from her knees, and she rushed back to the toilets she had come from. She locked herself away in a stall after making sure no one was already using any other and let herself fall on the closed toilets with a sigh of defeat. She wished she had been fast enough to see him, meet him, because she was sure he was real. That young man from her dreams existed, somewhere out there, and while she couldn’t explain how he appeared with so much accuracy in her dreams, or why she had felt an instantaneous connection the moment their eyes had met, it filled her with an effervescent happiness to know she wasn’t alone. 

 

She carefully unfolded her raincoat and observed the large piece of paper with avid eyes. She poked it with the tip of her finger, just one quick brush, lest the same burning sensation would inflame her arm again. But nothing happened. So, she trailed her fingers over the many circles that were drawn with meticulous precision, following the lines with a feathery touch not to smear the ink around. She supposed the circles had a meaning, might even be some kind of cryptic language, but she had not a single clue what they all could mean. The only thing she recognized was a detailed drawing of a planisphere - a wonderful achievement given the thickness of the lines and its ridiculously small size. That, and the single circle that was of a different colour, emerald green, and whose sharp lines seemed to have been drawn in a hurry. A smile tugged at the corner of lips when she realized this might very well have been some kind of paper about Earth, a test she liked to imagine the mysterious man had passed with brio.

 

She turned the parchment around and her breath hitched in her throat when her eyes fell on the few lines scribbled on the bottom of the page.

 

_ Helo. _

_ Hou you are? _

_ Nice to met yuo. _

_ Tanx you. _

 

The letters were oddly shaped, some slanted, some too long, some too big, some swallowed by tiny blots of ink. Obviously, whoever had written this was not familiar with the concept of the Roman alphabet, even less so with the English language itself. Among the dozens of reasons she could have found to explain this poor - but nonetheless noble - attempt at writing her own language, there was one she particularly fancied. An unreasonable reason, but a reason she wanted to believe in.

 

A ray of light pierced a hole through the thick clouds and fell over the paper. Her jaw dropped, not because the sun had appeared like a divine intervention after weeks of rain and rough winds, but because that light was enough to draw a few light shadows on what she thought to be a smooth surface. 

  
  


“This can’t be…” she started under her breath, rummaging through the bottom of her backpack to find the pencil she knew was sleeping there.

  
  


She splayed the paper over the wall of the stall with her trembling hands and the lead of her pencil swiftly stroked the paper to make the shallow relief stand out and the words, the same three words, appear all over the page. Jagged letters, hesitant lines, awful spelling mistakes and words that randomly switched places. But the meaning was there. A whole page, filled from top to bottom with that one expression that made her stomach swoop in her belly and her heart gallop in her chest. 

  
  


_ I love you. _

  
  


****

  
  


He didn’t know where this sudden obsession for that small, dull planet they called Earth was coming from. For weeks, all of his papers had been revolving around it. From the thermodynamics of the oceans and the atmosphere, to the botany of the forests and the social anthropology of the tiny inhabitants, he probably knew more about the humans and their world than anyone else - more than most of the aforementioned humans themselves, he believed. Everything about it was too easy to understand, and that should have been enough to bore him and his brain that always seeked to dive deeper into the most complex mysteries the universe had to offer. But the fascination and the thrill never faded, never went away.

 

He pushed the broken door to the tiny shack he had moved to when the hole to the cave had become to small for him to go through and settled behind the rudimentary desk he had set up. Dozens of different papers were spread before him, and a dozen more would soon join them. But that wasn’t something he was keen on working on in that moment. Instead, he picked up a blank page of parchment, opened the small bottle of ink in which he dipped his precious quil - that had deteriorated a bit after more than two centuries of intensive scribbling.

 

He cracked the joints of his fingers, repositioned the candle further away to prevent any kind of impromptu fire in his wooden shack. And he finally drew the heavy volume he had borrowed from the library from the folds of his deep red robe. He opened it to the very first page, and his lips stretched into a smile as his eyes read the title of his brand new acquisition.

  
  


_ Introduction to Earthian Languages. _

 

* * *

 


	3. Fairytale

* * *

 

 

“Van Gogh, you coming to the party tonight?”

  
  


He rolled his eyes at the use of the nickname he had inherited thanks to the light auburn colour of his hair and his passion for anything that was Earth-related, famous painters included. Not that he minded much, as he rather liked the name and it actually was an improvement from the usual _hamster cheeks_ and _carrot heads_ he had gotten used to. He turned on his feet to face the committee of classmates that was standing against the wall of the classroom, waiting for the same lesson he wanted to attend. He hated geography and he most definitely hated the professor - who, by an ironic twist of fate, appeared to have taken a liking to him. He would have been glad to skip the lesson and study more in depth the strange animal humans called a unicorn, as he had decided that this particular animal would remain his favourite until he could find anything better than a steed with a magical horn stuck on its forehead. But skipping the lesson also meant he wouldn’t get the result for the paper he had spent a whole week working on, a full day of which he had consecrated to the drawing of a planisphere, cursing profusely against the stupidity of human for representing a sphere on a plane surface all the while.

 

A throat cleared and he finally understood the question. He had no idea why they would invite him to such a thing as a party. After so long, they should know he always declined any kind of invitation that had nothing to do with academic conferences and seminars. Sometimes, people would mistake him as the weird excluded boy who couldn’t get any friends because of his odd behaviour. They didn't understand that he was the one excluding others. Oh, very few liked him, and should he want to make any friends, he would probably need a single hand to count them. But he could have gotten a few. He simply didn’t want to. He didn’t have the time nor the desire to follow them in their useless errands they could waste precious hours on. When they went out for drinks, he stayed in his shack to work some more on his papers. When they ambled the streets in search of gifts for their soulmates, he stayed in bed to study his own soulmark under the light of the candle, trying to find clues about the whereabouts of his own. When they played stupid ball games in the Temporal Gardens, he played the dangerous game of sneaking into the Eternal Library to steal books he couldn’t afford to buy. 

 

He believed he had been forced to grow too fast ever since his parents’ death, and while he was still an immature two hundred year-old boy at heart, his clever little brain was already fuller than most of his professors’. Advantage, or disadvantage, he couldn’t make the difference. But he knew the difference between what was good for his future, and what was not. And he hoped that would be enough to guide his steps to the soulmate he was desperate to meet. 

  
  


“I’m not going,” he shrugged, his fingers unconsciously finding the locket he kept securely fastened around his neck - locket in which he had concealed the very first moment he had connected with his soulmate. “There’s this thing I… Need to work on.”

“Oh, come on Vincent, we’re celebrating! Two hundred years spent in this prison, halfway through graduation, you can’t miss it!”

“I… Alright,” he sighed in defeat, though he managed to offer a small smile. “I suppose I can make a quick appearance.”

“Main Hall after dinner.  And  _ please  _ don’t bring any homework.”

  
  


The last word was swallowed by the ringing bell and he hurried towards his preferred seat  before anyone could steal it from him - namely, the seat that was far enough from the professor’s desk, close enough to the door should he decide the lesson wasn’t worth spending a minute more in the stifling oven the classroom was on a sunny day such as this one. He waited patiently until the usul cacophony of students sitting down and taking out their material with merry chatters about the oncoming party died down, and he shifted a tad less patiently for the professor to start handing out the results of their latest test. That professor had the odd habit to deliver the results from the worst to the best, and he always dreaded to be the first to receive his result - though it had never happened, at least not until now. He drummed his fingers anxiously on the edge of the desk, watching as the old man cloaked in green picked up the pile of parchments from his desk and started to walk up the stairs towards the back of the room. Much too close to his desk to his liking. A lump grew in his throat, so heavy he couldn’t swallow it down, and his hearts free-fell in his chest when the very first paper was carefully laid down in front of him. He didn’t hear the soft and surprised murmurs that rose in the classroom, the staccato heartbeat pulsing in his ears much too loud and shrilling. A wave of heat inflamed his cheeks and he could have sworn the volume of his carotide tripled when the professor splayed his long fingers over his shoulder.

  
  


“I’m sorry, boy,” the elder apologized with a light pat. “That’s the third time in a row you’ve written about that small planet. And before you ask, no, focusing on the climatic specificities of Eurape doesn’t make it less irrelevant to the subject. Why not try something about… Gullipso? It’s close enough to Earth, and it’d be a nice change.”

“ _ Europe _ ,” he seethed between his teeth, fighting the urge he suddenly felt to swap his hand off and run out the room.

“I beg your pardon?”

“The continent is called  _ Europe _ ,” he kept going, unaware that tears had started to rain down his cheeks. “Greek mythology, Queen Europa, means _ wide-gazing _ . Something you definitely should try,  _ wide-gazing _ . Broaden your perspective and your knowledge a bit, hm? Just because a planet is small doesn’t mean it’s not important or relevant.”

  
  


He took a deep breath and slammed his book closed over the parchment he planned on burning as soon as he got back to his shack. He shoved the book back in his shoulder bag and slipped the strap around his neck before standing from his chair. He looked up to the ancient teacher, his fists clenching and unclenching on his sides as he pondered for a moment if he ought to readjust the half-moon shaped glasses perched in the tip of his nose with a punch, but he decided against it. Better to hit where it really hurt.

  
  


“And, for the record, the planet Gullipso changed its name into Luntana precisely eight hundred and seventy-three years ago, and that name was still in use fairly recently. Until the whole planet was sucked into the black hole of Hueb, that is,” he managed to smile despite the heavy tears sill hanging to his eyelashes. “See you later,  _ sir _ . Or better yet, never see you again. I quit.”

  
  


He shoved the professor away with a heavy nudge of his shoulder and fled the room under the electric whispers of his classmates, some unable to believe he had gotten the worst grade when he never failed to be the first at everything he did, some awed by the fact that he had dared talk in such a way to one of the most eminent teachers of the whole Academy. 

 

He closed the heavy door behind and let his back fall against it with a weary sigh. He didn’t know if he should be proud for having stood up for his convictions and his passion, or if he should feel guilty for giving way to his anger and disappointment. It was the first time in two centuries of intensive study and meticulous work that he got a grade that wasn’t perfect, and the first time he got to appreciate the bitter taste of failure. The wisdom he had acquired over the years whispered in his mind that it didn’t matter, because he knew his paper deserved the perfect grade no matter what the rubbish professor might say about it. But the childish pride in his hearts made his stomach churn at the thought that his final grade would be tarnished because of that humiliating single mark.

 

He shook his head with a dejected grimace and pushed his body away from the door. No need to linger around when he had just gained two hours he could use to study. A quick look at the miniature Gallifreyan hourglass tied to a chain around his wrist informed him that the biggest sun would soon reach its zenith - an important piece of information when it came to choosing the best aisle of the library. He started to walk down the short flight of stairs that led to the Temporal Gardens he had to cross to reach his favorite place in the Academy. Somehow, the hot breeze that made the bright orange leaves twinkle in the trees managed to soothe his resentment, and the third sun slowly setting beyond the horizon, outside the glass dome that protected the capital of Gallifrey, had him realize that a part of darkness didn’t necessarily meant impenetrable obscurity. A zero wasn’t a failure. It was a lesson. He understood that no matter how bright he thought he shone, he should never forget that light couldn’t exist without its shadows. 

 

That was a lesson he tried to learn throughout the day, even as he daydreamed in the Library, scribbling without much enthusiasm nor conscientiousness the few English expressions he had learned in his manual, at the bottom of the verso of the paper he ended up stuffing in his pocket when he realized all of it was useless. 

 

He looked up through the window, to the single star that shone during the day above the tower bell of the Cathedral. He knew the planet Earth was close to that star - which happened to already be dead to the eyes of humans, given the distance of hundreds of thousands light years that separated it from Gallifrey when Earth was just a few dozens light years away. He found himself wondering if his soulmate was like this star. Alive, in a distant galaxy he could have reached in an instant with a TARDIS. Already dead, maybe not born yet. That was the thing with outworlders. Gallifreyans were the only species he knew of who could travel time and space faster that the snap of a finger. The only species he knew possessed a virtually unlimited lifespan, when all the others found their death, eventually. He had been terrified to find out humans merely lived a hundred years. Nothing could be done in so little time. Life couldn’t possibly offer everything it had to give in one short, fleeting century. He pitied them. Knowing they were born only to work and fight and get bored and pretend they could love. It wasn’t living. Barely existing. But what terrified him the most was that it was possible his soulmate would be one of them. A tiny human he would have to watch whither and die. 

 

The nacre pattern of his soulmark itched at that thought, and he stared at the one circle he had deciphered only three years after taking up those botany lessons he was so fond of.  _ Hulis _ . It was a flower that grew in the desert continent on the other side of Gallifrey. White petals that faded to a pastel pink towards their center, soft and everlastingly covered by a dew they gathered from the atmosphere to protect themselves from the scorching suns. Long, sharp-edged leaves coated with a thin layer of the most venomous substance known to Gallifreyans, to fend off the insects and survive predators - which he had always considered weird for a plant that could spread faster than grass and grow more effectively than Gallifreyan babies loomed in the Orgue. 

 

He couldn’t figure out what linked that plant to his soulmate, and that wasn’t for lack of trying. He could only guess the mysterious meaning would be unveiled the moment he would finally meet them. He shook his head as he dejectedly pulled on his sleeve to hide the mark that so often made his brain hurt with the torrent of questions it brought. Two more centuries to go, he’d finally turn four hundred years old, and all of these questions would find answers. Hopefully.

 

***

 

He had hesitated a long time, pacing anxiously around his shack for almost as long as it took the sand of his hourglass to trickle down into the lower bulb, but he ended up making his decision. The Main Hall was already buzzing with excited prattling, some about how they could now chuck half of their papers in a dark pit of oblivion, some about the trepidation they felt at the prospect of  _ finally  _ starting their Tardis flying lessons. He stepped into the large Hall in search of the acquaintance who had invited him to the party - he had to admit, he wasn’t feeling much comfortable snaking through the dozens of grapes of students, gathered around the gigantic golden Hourglass standing in the middle of the Hall, on his own. 

 

“Hey, Van Gogh!” a reedy voice called out behind him before he could disappear into the sea of people. “Wait!”

“What is it, Kip?” he asked with measured sympathy, hoping they wouldn’t engage in a night-long conversation about that stupid card game he could blabber about for days without breathing.

“The geography instructor, he asked me to tell you, you won’t get a void for your paper if you can write him another one before next lesson.”

“Nah, I give up on geography, anyway,” he shrugged, scratching the side of his cheek with a finger. “I’m taking up nuclear physics instead.”

“Oh, Vince! For the love of Rassilon, please get me a perfect on that geography paper!”

“Why, what does this have to do with you?”

“I, hu, kinda bet all my credits that you were going to be the first student ever to get the Kronos medal.”

“Ah, of course you would… Sorry, Kip, no Kronos medal for me,” he apologized with a sad smile.

“But… I… Look,  I’ll buy you that rare book you wanted. What was it, the  _ Naturalis Historia  _ or some other human stuff again? Get that perfect and that book is yours, yeah?”

“Er… Listen, Kip,” he started, a hesitant sigh flowing past his lips - after all, he had wanted that book for aeons, and it would be an insult to his intelligence to refuse such an offer. “I… I’ll see what I can do. No promises, alright?”

“Next lesson is four moons and two sols away. Don’t let me down, Van Gogh.”

  
  


He could only nod as short and stubby fingers patted him on the shoulder, before the short boy disappeared in the crowd. He took a moment to look around and finally spotted the crown of long blond hair that belonged to Tinker. He grabbed a glass of juice on the way to him and the group of friends that sat in a circle near the pond, but the closer he got, the better he could hear their conversation - a mention of his name, a laugh, a groan. He approached slowly, careful to remain hidden behind the bushy plant that had the courtesy of throning at a reasonable distance so he could eavesdrop on them without being seen. His throat tied in a tight knot and he had to spit his first sip of Guandi nectar back into his glass.

  
  


“... But really, we should tell him,” the blond boy shrugged as he stuffed biscuits into his mouth.

“Why, though?” the girl leaning back against the edge of the pond raised an eyebrow. “I mean, with a brain like his, surely he knows that Overseer fairytale is just that. A fairytale.”

“Yeah, he’s not the first to have a dead mark. Plenty of others before him never got a soulmate and they ended up fine.”

“Sure, but I still think it’s sad,” another girl lamented, pensively running a finger along the edge of her glass. “That poor Vince is convinced he’s got a soulmate out there, and he’s living for that dream. I’ve never seen someone so committed to their studies for their soulmate.”

“Do you think this has anything to do with all that Earth stuff  he keeps talking about? Does he believe his soulmate is a human?”

“Don’t know,” the blond boy shook his head, pinching a crumb of biscuit off his robe, “ but what we all know is that you can’t get a soulmate from outside Gallifrey. There’s a reason our marks are all written in Gallifreyan and have a Time signature. He might fall in love with a human, there’s no denying that and I’ll even be happy for him, but they’ll never be his soulmate. He doesn’t have one. Period.”

  
  


Slowly, he spilled the content of his glass in the pot of the plant, dropped it among the white pebbles that covered the humid earth, and he started to step back. He turned on his feet, quite unable to see where he was going, unable to think about where his feet were taking him. He just knew he had to get away from them, get away from the thunder of those words he struggled to put a meaning on. He simply walked, down the stairs, up the main corridor, so much tears in his eyes he felt he was seeing the world through a lense covered in fresh dew. The only thing he could vaguely recognize was the huge engraving on an ancient wooden door that led to the one classroom everyone loved. It was always locked and only a few eminent professors possessed the key. But this night, it was slightly ajar, a tiny ray of yellow light filtering into the otherwise dark corridor. He looked back to the party, hearing the dulled chatters in the distance, looking at the soft glow that emanated from the reflection on the Hourglass. No one would come this way. And even if they did, he wasn’t sure he would care much. Whatever happened, nothing could be worse that finding out he had built his whole life on a lie he’d been stupid enough to believe in. 

 

He pushed the door open, closed it behind him with careful manoeuvres not to make the latch click into a locked position. The sound of conversation was replaced by a soft, comforting hum that came from the Tardis they used for the lessons. He should have been awed to finally see the ship, to finally get a proper look at the most magnificent piece of technology Gallifreyans had ever come up with. But in that moment, the flame of passion and the burning desire to always discover more were dead. Just like his hopes and dreams. It was just a ship. And no matter how far it could go, no matter when, it wouldn’t take him anywhere near the place he wanted to be. Because where he wanted to be didn’t exist.

 

A sad chuckle escaped his lips when he tried to read the few lines of painted letters covering the front of the blue box. He got closer to door and brushed his fingertips against the English words he hadn’t learnt yet.

  
  


“You think that’s funny?” his trembling voice asked, a somber smile ghosting over his lips. “That’s the idea of a joke for a Tardis, then?”

  
  


He jumped back with a gasp when the ship answered, its door opening with a creaking sound that almost echoed into a laugh in his ears. He took a peek inside the ship, and he saw the time rotor in the middle of the console room pulse with a pale blue glow, as if it were inviting him inside. He knew the ship was a sentient being capable of thought and feelings, but it was only when he felt the tendrils of its consciousness envelop his that he fully understood the implications of such powers. If he focused enough, he could almost understand the words it was whispering to him,  _ come inside _ ,  _ follow me _ ,  _ come closer _ . He knew he shouldn’t do as it said, that he wasn’t even supposed to be there, that if he was found out he would get into more trouble than his perfect grades could excuse. He could risk being forbidden to fly a Tardis for the rest of his days and losing the only thing that could help him reach his soulmate. And then, he remembered that he had no soulmate to go to.

 

So, he stepped on the metal grating of the ship, the thin soles of his sandals squeaking at each tiny step he took towards the center of the room. His eyes went to the hundreds of buttons and levers on the console, to the long coral struts running up towards a round golden ceiling and the dozen of corridors running from the sides, forking into many other corridors melting into an endless maze. He had almost reached the other side of the main room when the door slammed shut behind him and the time rotor was spurred into motion. His horrified shriek was drowned by the regular wheezing and groaning of the ship as he threw himself towards the door, his crooked knees wailing in protest at the sudden effort.

  
  


“What are you doing?” he shouted, his hands pulling on the handle so hard a screw popped off. “Don’t do that, stupid ship, I can’t even fly you back!”

  
  


But the ship only sent a jolt of electricity through the door and hummed gleefully when he fell down on his bottom with a loud curse, his tingling hands unable to find any purchase on the smooth surface of the barrier.  _ Out _ , the ship murmured in the back of his head just a moment later, making the thin hair at the back of his neck rise. It was only then that he realized the noise had died down and the grating had stopped vibrating under him. He didn’t know where they had landed, but none of this bode well. He tried to swallow the hard lump that had settled low in his throat as he scrambled back to his feet, staring with scared, wide and, at the same time, expectant eyes at the small frame of light the door that had whined open let appear. 

 

With slow, careful steps, he got closer to the light. The bubbles of excitement that rose in his stomach were enough to smother the pangs of worry and the twists of guilt, and his mouth split his face into a smile before he could stop it. He was on another planet. 

 

He tentatively reached out with a hand, not brave enough to leave the reassuring inside of the ship, but drew it back with a gasp when something humid and cold pricked his skin. He observed the pearls of water clinging to the hairs on his forearm, and darted his tongue to give one of them an experimental lick. Water. Full of dirt and dust and bacterias, but water nonetheless.

  
  


“Rain,” he murmured under his breath, looking up at the grey sky and the menacing clouds floating low above what he recognized as being concrete buildings. “Earth.”

  
  


His hearts hammering against his ribcage, so fast the pause between each beat could barely be felt, he stepped outside the safety of the ship - one foot first, just to see if that dark surface was solid enough to withstand his weight. His eyes roamed avidly around the space surrounded by the kind of buildings he’d only ever seen in books, taking in the weird painted lines that drew paths on the floor, the trees that were probably about to die given their bright green colours, and all those streams of water that flowed along tiny riverbeds. He was fascinated by the leaves embarking on journeys along those rivers and spent an entire minute following one with eyes wide open in innocent amazement, until it was swallowed by some kind of gaping hole in a wall. And the rain. He has studied everything about it and knew to the most irrelevant details how it all worked, but seeing it for real was something else altogether. The steady rhythm of all those drops splashing on the ground, the tight curtain of impenetrable water they created, the violence with which they lashed at the windows, the beautiful patterns they created in the air as they submitted to the force of the wind. It couldn’t compare to any picture he had stared into for hours on end.

 

His eyes fell on the line of windows that stretched over the building on the far left, and he saw the multitude of heads peeking out from inside what he supposed to be classrooms - the only thing he could remember from his readings about education on Earth, because it was one of the rare things Gallifreyans shared with that planet. So they must all have been humans. Tiny, fragile humans who were already wasting time learning about things they most likely wouldn’t need. Oh, how he would have loved to meet all of them, talk to them, learn from them. His eyes trailed to the left, to a smaller window, and he leaned against the corner of the building where he was standing. He stopped breathing, his respiratory bypass kicking in so he wouldn’t faint from the lack of oxygen, and he ferociously ignored the itching sensation that burnt from his wrist to the middle of his forearm. That lone head, behind that little window. Blond hair, the most beautiful face that had ever graced his soul, deep amber eyes he could have stared into for moons and sols without never being able to detach himself from their depth, lips that taught him for the very first time what the desire to kiss felt like. Heavy tears pearled at the corner of his eyes and his eyebrows knitted in the middle under the repressed urge he had to sob and shout and sing. There was no mistaking the heat that spread through his limbs, the way his hearts leapt against his ribcage as if they wanted to break through and reach out to her, the sudden rush of new emotions that flooded his empty soul. It was her. It was  _ her _ .

 

And suddenly, their eyes met. The smile that had cracked his dry lips vanished and he rolled his back against the building to get out of sight. His mark was positively searing by the time he managed to shoulder the door to the Tardis open, and he well knew why. It wasn’t the right time. He wasn’t supposed to be there just yet. It was much too soon.

 

He dashed to the console, unaware that the piece of paper he had tucked inside his robe was fluttering lightly along a weak breath of wind in the alley where he had landed. In his outright panic, he smashed buttons and pulled levers and flicked more buttons and punched random numbers on that weird calculator.

  
  


“Please, take me back,” he begged under his breath, shucking off the robe that was becoming increasingly unbearable. “Please, please, please, take me back, she can’t see me, not now.”

  
  


The Tardis answered his prayer, and the time rotor whirred to life as it dematerialized from the playground, mere seconds before Rose Tyler would stumble into the alley and find the only test he had ever failed in his life.

 

* * *

 


	4. Unhappy Party

* * *

 

 

She flicked the light of her tiny bathroom off and went to the full-length mirror glued to the door. She took in her reflection. The blond locks that fell on her bare shoulders in elegant curls, the heavy black makeup around her eyes, the dark red lipstick that underlined her full lips - she had understood that it was no use trying to cover up those lips she didn’t like, and decided she might as well make them pretty for those who did. A silver pendant hung low on her sternum, pointing to the reasonable cleavage her strapless black dress revealed. The dress was rather short, and she wasn’t used to wear such clothes, so she didn’t really know what to think of her muscular thighs and calves that were well-defined thanks to the sharp heels she had stepped into. 

 

She knew she wasn’t like most girls her age. She didn’t like fancy dresses, she didn’t particularly feel the need to be sexy in the eyes of boys, she had never felt the desire to seduce anyone, much less  _ date  _ anyone. She often shrugged it off when her classmates taunted her about the arid desert her love life was, some even joking about the fact that she was a lesbian in the closet. She never denied any of those allegations, party because she didn’t care and because it gave her a way out for justifying not having a boyfriend, mostly because she didn’t want to explain the real reason why she wasn’t interested in any of the young men that dared court her.

 

She picked off a blond hair that was sticking to the red woollen shawl she had tucked in the crook of her elbows, just to add a touch of smart to the rest of the rather banal dress. She didn’t feel much comfortable, but she knew the small party she was bound to attend wouldn’t last long - at least not for her. She was already thinking about the moment she’d be home, take off the painful heels and the tight dress to slip into her ripped shorts and the faded tee-shirt that had once belonged to her father. She regretted the promise she had made Mickey to attend that party with him, but she wouldn’t let him down. He was one of the rare friends who never made any comment on the fact that she was single - and had always been, as a matter of fact - and she enjoyed his company more than anyone else’s. He listened to her rambling about everything she loved, he always respected he decisions not to tell him about all those things she wanted to keep for herself. He had always been a comforting presence and lent a friendly ear when she wanted to share some of her secrets. He was the best friend she was grateful for and she wasn’t afraid to say she loved him.

 

A quick look at the robot-shaped clock, one of the rare things she had brough back from her childhood room in her mom’s flat, told her she was much too early. From the noise in the corridor, she knew most of the students she shared the residence with were already on their way to the party, but Mickey had been understanding enough to agree to pick her up a bit later. That way, they wouldn’t have to mingle with the excited crowd and they could remain unnoticed when they’d join the general hubbub in the sports hall.

 

She sat at her desk and crossed her hands over the  _ Encyclopedia of the Stars  _ she had been offered for her sixteenth birthday, a heavy volume she had sifted through so often the corners were rumpled, the cover vamped with tape, some paged torn or specked with coffee stains. It was a poor replacement for her telescope which was sleeping in Mickey’s basement - because the tiny window in her student room gave on the facade of another building, and she wasn’t much into spying on her neighbours, so it was probably better there than cluttering up too much space in her hutch. Her eyes fell on the frame standing on the corner of her desk and, much like every time she looked at that piece of paper, he heart stuttered in her chest. The ink had faded a little after the years, and the yellowish colour of the parchment had turned light brown, but she could still make out the circles and the drawing. She had stared at it for so long, on lonely nights when sleep would decide she was unworthy of its benediction, on boring homework sessions when physics would prove to be too much of a pain to study, that she probably could have reproduced most of the circles to the tiniest dot. When the few visitors she had asked about it, she answered it was a piece of weird art she had bought on Camden Street because it reminded her of space. Half of it was true, so it was a lie that she couldn’t really blame herself for selling. 

 

Sometimes, she would take it out of its glass sheet to look at the lines scribbled at the bottom of the page, to run her fingers on the words highlighted by the thin layer of graphite. They helped her remember his face, and they helped her remember why she wasn’t interested in anyone. She couldn’t find an explanation to that mystery, but she accepted it. She had accepted that she was in love with the pair of deep emerald eyes, the red curls, the stub nose and the ridiculous smile. It had been hard, at first, to know her heart and her mind would only fly towards that rather common, almost ugly boy, especially since she had never even met him, since she didn’t even know where he was coming from, what his name was,  _ who  _ he was. She had tried to ignore it, but denial wasn’t easy when his face kept popping up in random places and in most of her dreams. But after a while, after she realized the harder she tried to forget about him, the more accurately he appeared in her thoughts, she had simply decided to live with it. If he was important, if he was the man she was supposed to love and who would love her back by some twisted destiny, he would show up, eventually. She had decided to wait.

 

A sharp knock echoed in her small room, and she took a deep breath as well as the tiny black sequined bag she had bought for the occasion.

  
  


“Hi, Rose,” Mickey greeted her with a smile, a whistle falling from his lips as he took in her appearance. “Damn, you look… Wow.”

“Oi, shut it,” she chastised with a slap on his forearm. “You know I don’t like it.”

“Sorry,  _ princess _ . So, ready to go?”

“Not really,” she shrugged, though she still closed her door behind her and took the arm he graciously offered. “I’m going only because you’re going to get that reward and I don’t want to miss it.”

“I might not be the only one to get a reward,” he winked conspicuously. 

“What does that mean? Please, tell me I won’t have to make a fool of myself in front of everyone in that stupid dress.”

“You won’t make a fool of yourself, and you’ll stun everyone with that dress, trust me.”

  
  


She could only roll her eyes and shrug it off as one of the cheap jokes he was so fond of. The gymnasium was already crowded when they arrived, hundreds of graduates dancing to an off-beat rock song, cups filled with either juice of beer in their hands, some sitting on benches and shouting over the music blaring through the speakers. She recognized a few faces, students she had spent most of her days with for the past two years, but the rest was an otherwise seamless sea of anonymous people - which was a bit of a relief, given that she wanted to remain unnoticed. She stood in a less frequented corner until Mickey came back with two cups and a smile that flashed green when he was swallowed by the ray of a spotlight.

  
  


“We should get closer to the stage,” he grinned, offering her one of the cups. “They’re about to start.”

“Mickey, I’m not…” she tried to refuse with a vehement shake of her head.

“Please, Rose, I asked Will to call the both of us at the same time so you don’t have to go alone.”

“You knew about this, and you didn’t tell me?” she huffed, clearly annoyed that he hadn’t judged necessary to ask for her opinion.

“I’m sorry, I thought you’d like it,” he apologized, scratching the back of his head. “Please Rose, come with me, it won’t take more than a minute, I promise.”

“ _ Fine _ ,” she drawled. “But I’m not speaking.”

  
  


His smile got impossibly brighter and she could only smile in return at his giddy dance steps he made in victory. She sipped at her orange juice she was quite sure had been mixed with a tiny dose of alcohol, but she spat it back when her stomach churned and her heart missed a beat. One of her classmates jumped onto the stage and the music faded to be replaced by an screeching feedback that had everyone groan in annoyance. 

  
  


“Sorry, guys,” he spoke into his mike, waving in apology at the audience. “I hope everyone’s having a good time so far!”

  
  


The crowd exploded in cheers and wild clapping at those words, and against her best will her heart started to beat faster. She wiped her clammy hands on her dress and gratefully accepted when Mickey rolled an arm around her waist. She abhorred public appearances and she detested having to go up there, but her best friend on her side made the prospect a bit more bearable. She just hoped she wouldn’t have to go first. She’d rather go when everyone would be bored by what was happening on the stage and stop paying attention to any of it. 

  
  


“We’re going to start with all the little Einsteins of the science department,” he continued, taking out a small piece of paper from his pocket and putting it down on a lectern. “We truly have been blessed with geniuses this year, and I would like to open this ceremony with Mickey Smith and Rose Tyler!”

“Hell yes!” Mickey grinned excitedly, pulling on her hand to lead her to the flight of stairs next to the stage. “Come on, Rose.”

  
  


Her heart free-fell in her chest and a lump grew in her throat as she made her way up the steps, half-stumbling because of her heels, her ears deaf to the loud round of applause and roars of ovation. She was instantly drowned in dazzling white light, and she was glad to find out it made it hard to clearly see anyone. She shuffled to get closer to Mickey, her wild eyes going from one side of the gymnasium to the other, her fingers fiddling with the sequins on her small bag. She suddenly caught a sight of one head in the crowd, just as the spotlight travelled from the front to the back. It lasted just long enough for her mouth to part in a silent shout, for her hand to twitch on her side as if she wanted to reach to him, for her eyes to water at the unexpected way her heart leapt in her chest and filled her with hope. Not long enough to pinpoint the exact place she had spotted the mass of red curls lost in the crowd. She searched, and searched, but he was gone. 

 

She had to swallow her disappointment when she realized there was no way she’d be able to find him later - if he had been there at all, she couldn’t really tell the difference between her wishful fantasies and reality any longer. It wasn’t the first time she believed she’d seen him, and it probably wouldn’t be the last. She could only hope the next time this would happen, he would be there. Really there.

 

She pretended to wipe a smudge of mascara with the hem of her shawl to cover her tears, just as her classmate finished his short introduction and finally started his little show.

  
  


“So, Mickey Smith,” Will stated with a smug smile, a hand on his hip. “Do you know what prize you’re going to get?”

“Huhu, not a clue,” he shrugged, stealing a quick glance at his friend to make sure she was alright.

“Then let me enlighten you. For creating the deadliest stink bomb that was ever made in our college, for setting half the physics lab on fire after a failed experiment, and for all those explosions you blessed us with in chemistry lessons all while getting straight As for your A-levels… We decided the best choice for you would be a gift to help you continue on the way to awesomeness!”

  
  


She had to laugh along her best friend when another classmate appeared with what seemed to be a chemistry kit obviously designed for kids. Mickey lifted it high above his head and shook it like he would have done with a football cup, and the crowd laughed with them in a wave of glee. 

  
  


“Thank you,” Mickey chuckled in the mike that was offered to him. “May the hole in the ceiling of A-22 never be repaired.”

“I have an agreement with the headmaster, don’t worry about that, Mick,” Will reassured him with a friendly slap on the back. “Now… Rose Tyler.”

  
  


Her smile disappeared from her face faster than Will could say her name, and she clasped her hands in front of her, anxiously waiting for what would come next.

  
  


“Rose Tyler,” he repeated, reaching out to take one of her hand in his and bring her closer to the lectern. “Living proof that science geeks can be just as beautiful as we, normal people, isn’t that right guys?”

  
  


Her cheeks flushed when the audience agreed with a tornado of applause and whistles and cheers, and she offered a small smile in return despite the sudden urge she had to run away.

  
  


“For always helping your classmates when they needed it,” Will said a tad more seriously than he had for Mickey, “for proving to all of us that dedication and hardwork are the only key to success, for showing us that a dream can become reality if you wish it hard enough… And, of course, for getting all those straight As in your A-levels, we thought…”

  
  


She nibbled her lower lip nervously when the young man she believed was called Roy stepped next to her with a tiny purple velvet cushion. Will delicately picked up the first piece of jewelry that was nestled in the cushion and slipped behind her to lock a necklace around her neck. He did the same with a bracelet he attached to her wrist, and she shivered when his long fingers brushed on the inside of her bare forearm.

  
  


“Miniature solar systems,” Will explained with a smile, lifting her arm so those closer to the stage could take a look at the shiny planets around her wrist. “True to scale, of course. We wish you all the best for what’s bound to be a prodigious careers in astrophysics, Rose, and whatever happens, we want you to know that you are a good friend to all of us. Thanks for your kindness and your unwavering support. We’ll miss you.”

“I.. Um, thanks,” she managed to croak out past the tight knot her throat had tied into. “If I ever get lost in space, I’ll have this to find my way back to you guys.”

“Ha, send us a postcard before you come back, though,” Will chuckled as he finally let go of her hand. “Ladies and gents, Rose and Mickey!”

  
  


She let herself be led by Mickey’s hand off of the stage, waving absentmindedly at the audience which had burst into a renewed round of applause, too shook and dumbfounded to fully realize what had happened. A few people patted her shoulder as they made their way back to an unoccupied bench in a corner of the gymnasium, and she barely heard the  _ You go, Tyler _ and the  _ Well done, Rose _ she was greeted with along with lifted thumbs and broad smiles. Mickey plopped down on the bench with an amused sigh and drummed the empty space next to him with his fingers to invite her to sit.

  
  


“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” he asked, shoving the chemistry kit under the bench.

“I… Suppose not,” she shrugged as she tugged lightly on the newly acquired piece of jewelry hanging from her wrist. “I… Wasn’t expecting such nice words.”

“You deserved them, Rose,” he said softly, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “You’re brilliant, you’re the only one who can’t see that.”

“I…” she started before she had to clear her throat. “Yeah. It actually… Felt good, you know.”

“I knew it would, I wouldn’t have dragged you up there otherwise,” he smiled, planting a kiss on her temple. “People like you, Rose. You’re nice, and beautiful, and smart. It was about time you realized that, yeah?”

“Thanks, Mick. I’m… glad you’re my best friend. I hope you know that.”

“Yeah, I know,” he replied with a soft brush of his knuckles against her cheek. “I’m glad you’re my best friend too. So, another drink? Martha will be there in twenty minutes, we could share one last before you can head home, if you still want to leave early.”

“Oh yes, I feel like I could drink the whole bar after all this.”

“Got you, princess. Be back in a tick.”

  
  


She watched as he was devoured by the sea of people and her attention was drawn back to the stage, where Will was now offering books to a girl who appeared to be the best student in literature and drama. Followed a string of other students, from languages to sociology and philosophy, each receiving a small gift for their achievements. She half-heartedly joined the several rounds of applause that followed, anxiously waiting for Mickey to come back. She wanted to find a higher place to seat so she could survey the crowd and hopefully see  _ him  _ again, even if she was convinced it had just been a trick of the light, or even some other redhead that had had the misfortune to stand there at the wrong place, in the wrong moment. She just wanted to make sure.

 

She jumped when someone fell down next to her with a heavy sigh, and she offered a small greeting when she saw it was Will - who she only then noticed had left the stage to yield it to the college rock band. A small sheen of sweat covered his forehead and he avidly gulped down a whole cup of juice in one go before dropping it on the side with a satisfied rub over his stomach.

  
  


“Well I’m glad that’s over,” he announced, tugging on his tie knot to loosen it. “I love you guys, but this was a pain.”

“Comes with being the best prefect of the college, I suppose.”

“Quite right,” he chuckled as he ran a hand through his hair. “So, how are you doing, Rose? Do you like your gift?”

“It’s beautiful,” she nodded with a smile, running the pad of her thumb over the bead planets. “I love it.”

“Oh, good. I wasn’t sure, I just saw that in the shop and I thought it’d suit you.”

“You chose it?” she raised an eyebrow.

“Yep. The only thing I personally chose, I’ll have you know. I wanted yours to be special.”

  
  


A shiver rolled down her spine like warm water at those words, and she had to remind herself to breathe when he shifted closer to her. She wasn’t sure what his intentions were, until he gently weaved his fingers between hers while his other hand found its way to her knee - a fleeting touch that left her a way out if she didn’t want any it, and she greatly appreciated it. She looked at his face, at his piercing blue eyes and thin lips. He was rather handsome, if she was being honest with herself. Nothing like the images from that boy in her dreams. She had never paid much attention to him in class before, too occupied to take notes,  too serious to daydream about all those love stories that impassioned everyone else. 

 

She knew he was funny, he was always the ones to make silly jokes and do stupid things to amuse his classmates - she had laughed once or twice at his bad puns. She knew everyone liked him, most girls wanted to date him, boys were jealous of him. He was like that perfect, hot student, the rockstar of the college idealised in those American flicks she sometimes watched with her friends. Expect Will was nice not to be liked by people, but because he truly  liked people. He was also caring, it seemed. A bit bold, obviously, but the good kind. And he had the advantage of being there, physically there, his hot palm resting on her naked knee and his eyes looking at her, really looking at her, unlike that prince she wanted to snort at herself for believing in.

  
  


“I wasn’t lying when I said we… I’m going to miss you, Rose,” he admitted, just loud enough over the overall cacophony. “I think it’s quite a shame that we didn’t get to spend that much time together.”

“A shame, yes,” she softly answered, staring at their joined hands on her lap. 

  
  


A battle of emotions roared in her chest at the sight. Something akin to betrayal made her insides twist - why, she had no idea, it wasn’t like she was cheating on anyone. But she also felt pleasant flutters in the pit of her stomach and warmth run through her limbs. The rockstar of the college had noticed her. Better, he was interested in her. She feared she was giving in the temptation just to shut everyone up about her disastrous love life. But then, he brought his other hand to tenderly cup her jaw and the fear gave way to excitement.

  
  


“Rose, would it be wrong for me to kiss you?” he asked at the exact moment when she decided that was what she very much wanted him to do.

  
  


She was perfectly aware that this would probably lead nowhere, but she liked him. It wouldn’t mean commitment or engagement, it wouldn’t mean much more than a consequenceless fling. Just a kiss. To know what it felt like to share some intimate affection with another person. To experience what everyone had been taunting her about for three years. She tucked the image of the strange boy in a corner of her head and slipped her hand behind his neck, enjoying the feel of his short hair under her skin and his hot breath as he got closer. She definitely liked it, judging by the way her body willingly bent towards his. She held her breath and her heat missed a beat when his nose brushed against hers. That was it. Her first kiss. 

 

Just as their lips were about to meet, a searing sensation ran through her forearm, she gasped, and he drew back with a yelp, his long fingers tightly closing around her arm to shove it away.

  
  


“What the fuck, Rose?” he cursed, jerking away from her with a grimace of pain.

  
  


She watched, eyes wide in horror, as the skin of his neck turned an angry hue of red and blistered within seconds. She rushed to him, tried to find something around her to relieve him of his pain, desperately tried to ask for help around her. Tears were rolling his cheeks as he pressed his palm against the burn that started to spread to his jaw, down to the neckline of his shirt, and she never felt more powerless than in that moment.

  
  


“Will, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I don’t know…” she attempted to apologize, though he was quick to push her away with a broad and powerful sweep of his arm.

“Don’t touch me, don’t fucking touch me!” he barked, his face distorted into a heavy frown of resentment. “Fuck, you could have just told me you didn’t want me to kiss you.”

  
  


Her eyes quickly filled with tears of their own and she tentatively reached out to me again despite his glare and his the obvious infuriation painted over his features.

  
  


“I’m sorry,” she cried, running feverish fingers through her blond locks. “I don’t know what happened, I promise. I’m sorry.”

“Rose, what’s happening?”

  
  


She turned back on her feet to face Mickey, who was back with the two cups of juice he had promised, but that he was quick to put down on the bench. She wanted to explain the little she understood from the situation and spare Will the confrontation with her best friend she felt coming. She wasn’t fast enough.

  
  


“Hey, what the Hell have you done to Rose?” Mickey growled, seizing him by the collar of his shirt with the firm intention to get back at him for any harm he might have done his best friend.

“What’s she done to me, more like,” he seethed, pointing at the impressive burn that was so deep his flesh was starting to swell and get blotchy.

“Rose?”

“I don’t know what happened, I swear,” she lamented again as she pried Mickey’s fingers off of Will. “He didn’t do anything, we were about to kiss and… I don’t know, okay?”

“Yeah, right,” Will spat, wobbling away from them. “Just be careful, mate, she might melt your bollocks off.”

  
  


Mickey rubbed his face with a tired sigh and his face drew into a frown of dejection at the sight of a sobbing Rose. He gently wrapped his arm around her waist when she tethered on her feet and drew her close to his chest in a comforting hug.

  
  


“Let’s get you home, yeah?” he mumbled against the top of her head.

“What about Martha?” she  sniffed, suddenly chilled to the bones and exhausted.

“She’s not coming,” he lied, thinking it better not to make her feel bad for stealing him away from his girlfriend. “Come on, let’s get going, princess.”

  
  


Once they got back to the warmth of her small bedroom in the deserted residence, they both plopped down on the bed in silence, except for her contained sniffs and quiet sobs. Mickey took her arm and she couldn’t suppress a soft cry of pain.

  
  


“What is this, Rose?” he asked as he brushed her skin with the pad of his thumb.

“He… Just grabbed me,” she shrugged, looking at the hematomas colouring her skin in a spectrum of dark colours. “It’s fine. I’m fine.”

“I don’t mean the bruise, I mean that,” he insisted with a light pressure on her wrist.

  
  


She lowered her eyes to her sensitive limb and, at first, she couldn’t see anything but the angry rainbow painted in the definite shape of fingers. But then, among the blots of green and purple, she noticed a thin, pale white line than drew patterns from the base of her hand and half-way up her forearm. Her eyes widened at the circles he could have recognized between a thousand others. They were a bit different that those spread over the parchment, but it definitely was the same style. A large circle crossed by lines and ornamented by dots, surrounded by a dozen of much smaller ones. Her thoughts were drawn back to the unknown redhead and a shriek fled her tight throat when the thin line glowed ever so slightly. A dull, pulsing white light that looked anything but normal. It terrified her. She started to rub the skin with her palm, hard and fast, trying to erase that line she was growing more and more scared off. The harder she rubbed, the brighter it glowed. As if it had a conscience of its own and was furious she would dare wipe it off.

  
  


“Mickey, help me,” she pleaded, using her nails to scratch at the already hurt skin, almost lacerating it. “I don’t know what the fuck this is, please help me remove it.”

“Stop, Rose, just stop,” Mickey said as he swatted her hand away from her wrist. “Damn, why would you do that to yourself?”

“Because you think it’s normal to have something that just shines under your skin like… Like, I don’t bloody know, but look at that, Mickey, it’s bloody blinding me. Please, just… Help me…”

“Rose, nothing is shining,” he grimaced - though more out of sadness for his friend’s obvious distress than anything else. “Just listen to me princess, it is  _ not  _ shining. Stop hurting yourself, please.”

  
  


He did his best to lock her hands down on the mattress and she stared at reddened arm, her nails having gone so deep blood was starting to gather under her skin in the shape of irregular paths. The glowing had stopped. And the tears started to stream down her cheeks, heavy, and just as painful as the sore flesh of her arm. 

  
  


“What’s happening to me, Mickey?” she whispered through a sob tinged with worry and fear. “Please tell me what’s happening to me.”

“I don’t know, Rose. Why don’t  _ you  _ tell me?”

“I don’t…”

“No, that’s bullshit, Rose, I can see it. You’ve been hiding something from me, and I’m sure this has something to do with it.”

“I… You’re going to think I’m completely bonkers, Mickey. This is just so… Weird.”

“I don't care. I want to know what’s going on with my best friend. Go on, tell me.”

“Fine… But promise me you won’t laugh at me.”

“I promise.”

“Okay…” she nodded, taking a deep breath before she started her little story from the beginning.

 

* * *

 


	5. To Hulis

* * *

 

 

“VAN GOGH!”

  


The shout echoed against the walls of the deep cavern, drops of gloo fell from the stalactite vibrating with the intensity of the voice, and he fell head first into the dusty ground covered in tiny rocks and that same, viscous substance that stuck to his skin.

 

He could vaguely hear the hurried cries of his classmates, the low rumble of the beast's claws hammering against the ground, the sound of all those guns firing at once, the blood rushing, pulsing in his ears. He could vaguely feel the thin sand under his palms, the warmth of the volcano’s earth under his heaving chest, the trickle of green gloo that oozed from the cavern like poison and spat over his back. He couldn't see anything but the pitch black darkness of his eyelids. What he could definitely feel, however, was the excruciating pain radiating from the lacerated skin of his abdomen, the cool blood pooling from a wound he supposed was deep enough to have touched his spinal cord - or so the inability to move a single finger told him.

 

A pitiful whimper left his parted lips and he felt his body warm up, at the extremities first, then up his arms and legs, the heat nestling deep between the weak and irregular beating of his hearts. Regeneration. If his brain were receiving enough blood and if he weren’t on the verge of passing out, he would have remembered everything he’d read about it in the Library. And even then, nothing could have prepared him for the reality of it. The warmth turned to burning, searing heat throughout his whole body, he could feel all the cells, the molecules in his body change, split, die and live again. It felt like millions of fire ants crawling up his dying physical envelop - he’d learnt about the fire ants a few years back, in a manual about Earth insects, and through the thick fog of his haze and confusion he believed that was the best way to describe it. Needles that pierced his skin, tweezers that pulled at the fibers of his muscles, clamps that tightened around his bones and shattered them to tiny pieces.

 

He should have been praying that his first regeneration would go smoothly - unlike some who had been unable to go through the whole process and had found a gruesome death. He should have been begging that the wound wasn’t too serious or his body too weak to survive this torture. He should have been hoping this would all be over soon. But, as his fingers curled against rocks and his feet dragged slowly in the sand as beams of regeneration energy burst from his extremities, only one thought crawled its way to the front of his mind. _Please, give me a body she will like. Please, give me a body she will like._

 

A scream tore its way out of his throat when his whole body was entirely swallowed by a yellowish light that shone brighter than Gallifrey’s suns and burnt hotter than the ardent magma brewing in the pit of the volcano. He felt his muscles and his bones grow, pulled and stretched to accommodate the new height of his morphing body. He felt his tattered organs stitch batch together and all the connexions flare back to life when his spinal cord melded back into a fully functional one. It didn’t help with the pain.

  
  


“Don’t touch him!” he heard one of his friends warn in a loud cry, over his own, plaintive ones. “Let it happen, don’t touch him!”

“The Drearian!” another screamed, more gunshots resonating against the cavern walls. “It’s not dead yet! Aim for its head, for Rassilon’s sake!”

  


And, all of the sudden, his arching back fell back to the ground with a dull thump that was imitated by the beast collapsing against a huge rock. He took in a ragged breath, as deep and long as his new set of lungs would allow him to, and tears filled his eyes when he realized he could still breathe. He was alive. His half-open eyes fell on the Drearian that had fallen limply to the ground, body covered in dozens gunshot wounds leaking blood. It was dead.

 

The last thing he saw before darkness swallowed him was his friend Tinker, proudly stepping a foot down on the beast’s head with a smug smile.

 

***

 

He could hear the birds merrily chirping in the trees. His close eyelids were thin enough to let him know he was lying somewhere bright. Somewhere warm. A strong smell of flowers invaded his nostrils and tickled all the way down his throat. So different from the dust and the stifling heat he remembered inhaling and feeling moments before. Or was it longer than moments? The searing headache punching his skull and burning behind his eyes didn’t help his sense of time pinpoint how much time had passed since the test. He tried to rub his nose but only then did he realize he was trapped. He couldn't move. His eyes shot open at the definite panic he felt bubbling in his stomach and he struggled to take a deep breath that turned into a rough string of coughs that brought tears to the corner of his eyes.

 

He took a few seconds to calm down and analyze the situation, like he usually did when faced with something he didn’t understand - a rare occurrence that never failed to spark his anger and annoyance. He was in bed. A simple one, with a heavy duvet thrown over his body and an uncomfortable pillow tucked under his head. He threw a quick look around, with the odd feeling that his eyesight had grown weaker. A flower pot on a small bedside table, an ugly painting hanging on an otherwise naked wall, another bed, just like his, unoccupied. He recognized the infirmary of the Academy, but it required a long minute before everything clicked in place in his fuzzy brain. Oh yes, the last test. The Drearian. The claw that had bored through his abdomen. The regeneration.

 

He fumbled with the heavy cover and swung his feet to the side despite the remnants of pain pulling at his brand new muscles. His height made him second guess each of his steps, unused to walk with such long and wiry legs. He took notice of his knees and a soft breath of relief fled past his lips. These weren’t crooked, and the joints rolled with such fluidity he believed he was walking on a fluffy cloud instead of an uneven path covered in potholes and clods of earth. But this wasn’t important. All he could think about as he made his way to the full-length mirror standing in the corner of the room were the hair blond as ripe wheat, the round nose, the rosy cheeks, the full lips, and those deep whiskey eyes that had so often filled his dreams with comfort and passion for the past two centuries. And all he wanted was to see if his prayers had been heard. He wanted to have a nice face and a nice body. He _needed_ to be what his soulmate would expect from the love of her life.

 

“What…” he whispered as he finally reached the mirror.

  


His hearts started to beat just a tad faster in the chest that felt both too big and too tiny. Something must have gone horribly wrong with the regeneration. Maybe it wasn’t fully completed yet. Or so he hoped. The first thing that struck him was how assymetrical this whole face was. One of his deep chocolate eyes was just a bit bulgier than the other, just enough for his eyelid to droop a little and the round-shaped pleat to stand higher up. One of his eyebrows seemed to be out of his control, shooting up his forehead, bending into a frown or undulating like a tiny snake even though it had no reason to. One of his ear was wonky, its edge irregular as if the cartilage had suffered the same fate as a wood plank shaved too closely by a shaking hand. His nose would have looked fine enough, if it hadn’t decided to deviate its course to the right towards the middle. It probably wanted to escape the decidedly weird composition of the left part of his face, he supposed. His upper lip remained invisible, except when he smiled. His lower lip was pouty, too pouty, and gave him the appearance of a sad puppy, except when he smiled. However, in that moment, he couldn’t find any reason to smile. Well, the old-fashioned sideburns running down his cheeks and the crazy strands of brown hair that ridiculously stuck out like a hedgehog’s spikes might have been one, if the only thing at stake was the first prize of that preposterous competition the Academy students committee held every other year - competition he considered to be a giant buffoonery to make contemptuous fun of those unlucky enough not to be blessed with the gifts a regeneration could bring.

  


“Is that what you understood when I told you _something she’ll like_?” he spat at his reflection, rubbing his nose in a desperate attempt to straighten its slanted curve. “Bloody idiot.”

  


Not only was his face far from what his most reasonable expectations had imagined, but his character seemed to have degenerated into a choleric and bitter temper. Definitely not something to be proud of, and definitely not the kind of personality that would appeal to that one human he already was in love with. It only stirred his anger into an even more raging wave of heat that coursed through his thin body - a body that he decided he hated. Unable to face the sight of his new appearance, he sent his tight fist into a powerful punch against the mirror that shattered under the impact and cut the skin of his gnarled joints.

  


“She’s never going to like me,” he murmured, staring at the drops of blood steadily rolling down his hand and splashing onto the pale green linoleum. “All of this… For nothing… I’m sorry, soulmate. I wish I could be more for you. I’m sorry.”

 

He wiped the blood of his hand on the white robe he had been clad into, and when he realized the cuts wouldn’t close, he also realized there was no more regeneration energy left in his body. It was over.

 

***

 

He tugged forcefully on the collar of his robe, the garment much too tight and too small for his current body - because, of course, the measurements had been taken before the regeneration, and with his stay at the infirmary he hadn’t had the chance to have them taken again. He felt ridiculous in the ceremonial robe, like all those kids playing in the Citadel’s boroughs, wrapped into their mother’s shawls to pretend they were Time Lords. But in his case, with the heavy Kronos medal hanging around his neck, along with Calpurnia pin neatly attached to his breast and the ornamented headpiece encasing his face, this was not pretending. He was a Time Lord. Or so the parchment he held fiercely in his clammy palm told him. He had been the best. Not only the best of his promotion, but the best. Perfect results over more than four hundred years of intense and difficult study. Or so the headmaster had praised him during the neverending ceremony gathering the populace of Gallifrey stupid enough to attend one of the most boring celebration the planet ever organized, as well as every single professor, researcher and other unimportant personnel of the Academy.

 

But now that he had left the clamours and applauses behind him and found himself waiting to be introduced into the headmaster's office, he realized the piece of paper that read his name and his newly acquired nickname didn’t necessarily mean he was worthy of the title. The ceremony might just have been a facade to keep the appearances intact. Everyone, from his classmates to the caretaker, believed he had pulled out of the four century long cursus with the best marks, the best appreciations, the best rank that had ever been achieved on Gallifrey. Denying that fact in front of them might have stirred too much incomprehension and ruined the whole joyful and light-hearted atmosphere.

 

He knew perfectly well why he hadn't succeeded in arising to perfection, and he was convinced this was what the headmaster wanted to talk to him about. He took a deep breath when the large wooden door engraved with an hourglass topped with a crown opened, and he was invited into the large office by the vice-headmaster. It was the first time he was allowed in this office, and, despite his anxiety, he could only look in awe at the thousands of books neatly displayed behind glass cases - rare books there was a time he would have sold his most precious possessions just to get a look at one of their pages.

  


“Congratulations, my boy,” the headmaster sitting behind the enormous desk offered with a paternalistic smile. “ I never thought I’d see this day. How does it feel to be the first student to graduate with a perfect score in each and every subjects this Academy teaches?”

“Perfect score, eh?” he shrugged, giving his newly acquired pin a flick of his finger. “Really?”

“Ah, I see what you are thinking about. The regeneration, is that right?”

“Minus fifty points,” he nodded. “Can’t get a perfect with a minus fifty points.”

“Son, what happened during that last test shouldn’t have happened. You must know, we don’t send students on a mission of we’re not positive nothing serious can happen. You were all trained more than sufficiently enough to defeat a Drearian.”

“Why give us one regeneration, then?”

“Because, every once in a while, there’s someone like you. The accident happened because you wanted to protect one of your friends.”

“Poor judgment, that was.”

“No, it wasn’t. We need more people like you. Selfless, who’s not scared to take a blow for others, who acts on instinct rather that calculated schemes. You, my boy, are the perfect balance between raw intelligence and measured emotions. Thus the perfect score. We couldn’t penalize you for something that was obviously _not_ an error of judgment as you put it.”

“Right,” he dismissed with wave of the hand. “So, why am I here, then? A pat on the back and a shake of hands?”

“Because we need to talk about your future.”

  


He didn’t miss the sudden serious tone of the headmaster’s deep voice, and he had to swallow down a sharp retort that was hanging on the tip of his tongue. That didn’t bode well.

  


“What about my future?” he asked past the lump in his throat. “I know what I want to do with my life, we don’t need to talk about my future.”

  


That was only half a lie. He knew he wanted to get off this planet and fly through the rest of the universe, more specifically to Earth, once he’d get the Tardis he had worked so hard to earn. He knew he wanted to stay on his own, away from any kind of company, and get rid of all the shackles the Academy had locked around his ankles. The only thing he wasn’t so sure of any longer was the desire that had consumed him for centuries to meet his soulmate. With that ridiculous face and bitter temperament, he had had to operate a slight reevaluation regarding that particular plan. But that didn’t weight much in the balance. He was sure he didn’t want to stay on Gallifrey and die among piles of books about planets he’d never get the chance to see with his own eyes. And it seemed that was the exact same thing the Academy was about to steal away from him.

  


“We need you here, my boy,” the headmaster said, bowing his head as if he didn’t want to look into his eyes and see the rage inflame his cheeks. “We have other plans for you.”

“I don’t care about your plans,” he seethed, knowing very well what would come next. “I’m a Time Lord, and I’m entitled to do things the way I want, just like all the others. And I want to go.”

“You will not be given a Tardis. You possess invaluable potential we will not waste to the guts of the universe. You will stay here, and be trained to be the new Head of the Military. President’s orders.”

“You can’t do that!” he roared, tearing the pin off his robe and slamming it down on the smooth surface of the desk. “Look at that, see that? Look at it and tell me I don’t deserve my Tardis! Look at it!”

“I see it,” the headmaster answered with every ounce of calm and control he could muster. “And that it precisely the reason why you will stay. We need your intelligence and the knowledge you’ve acquired over the years. This is final, my boy. You start your training tomorrow. You will now be taken you to your new quarters.”

“What? _What_?”

  


Before he could fill his lungs with fresh air to scream out the mountain of protests he wanted to crush the old scoundrel under, someone grabbed him forcefully by the arm and dragged him out of the office, all notions of ceremony forgotten.

  


“Keep quiet and follow me,” a voice he recognized as belonging to his geography teacher instructed. “We have to be quick.”

“What do you mean?” he growled, unsuccessful in prying his long fingers off his arms. “Where are you taking me? I’m telling you, I won’t be part of that stupid army, I’m not a bloody soldier.”

  


The professor eyed him with a smirk and kept pulling him like a vulgar child trotting in his steps - though the newly promoted Time Lord felt the fingers slacken their hold and the pace slow down a little.  


 

“I’m taking you to your Tardis, _Doctor_ ,” the professor offered with connivance, finally releasing him when he was sure he wouldn’t attempt to run away. “So you can fight your own battles.”

“I don’t have a Tardis,” he answered with a grimace, thinking that bald teacher had gone a bit mad. “They won’t give me one, they want me to stay here. Head of the Military, what a bunch of....”

“You’ve had a Tardis for two centuries, son.”

  


It was only then that he realized they were headed towards a classroom. The Tardis flight lessons classroom, more precisely. With the Tardis in the shape of a blue box engraved with English letters he had _borrowed_ after the half-term party. They walked into the empty room and there stood the ship, with his door already half-open as if she was waiting for her owner to enter. He was welcomed with a pleased hum that made his eardrums buzz with a comforting vibe and the thin hairs at the base of his neck rise in guilty satisfaction. He rubbed his temple when he felt the birth of a connection with the ship, like silver tendrils reaching out to his mind and wrapping it into an uncanny feeling of friendship and compassion. _His_ Tardis.

 

He watched the professor walk to him after fetching two necklaces from a jewelry box and took the chains he was offered.

  


“Two keys,” the professor explained, clasping his palm over his. “One for you, one for the one you’re after. Go to Earth. Find them and don’t come back. Live the life you’ve always wanted, boy.”

“But,” he started in a whisper, weighing the keys into his hand. “They’ll come after me. I’m stealing a Tardis.”

“It’s not stealing if she’s already yours,” he winked as he led him to the door of the ship that started to wheeze with a bit more conviction. “She’ll hide you. You won’t ever be found. Just promise me you won’t give up on your dreams.”

“It’s no use. My soulmate, she’s not… I’m not what she wants,” he lamented, the prospect of going to Earth and meet her suddenly much more terrifying now that it was just within reach.

“Then _become_ what she wants. Or would you rather take up the President’s offer and never meet her?”

  
“I… I don’t know, she…”

“Oh, trust me, you know. Now go.”

“But…”

“They’re coming. Just go, for Rassilon’s sake!”

  


He was shoved into the ship without any further warning and the wooden door slammed shut behind him, something of a thrilled laugh echoing through his ribcage. The time rotor began to whir, rise and fall like a well-oiled mechanic, and he was glad it was acting on his own because in that moment he would have been quite incapable of remembering anything about his flight lessons. All he remembered was the oath he had made centuries before. An oath that was making the circles on his forearm pulse with a soft blue light and his stomach heave in delight. That rubbish geography professor was right. He knew.

  


“I’ll become what you want,” he swore under his breath, staring at the intricate patterns glowing under the red sleeve of his robe. “My _Hulis_.”

  


He clung forcefully to the railing as the ship twirled in joy in the Time Vortex and he felt compelled to join her merry song with a loud laugh of his own. He was feeling something he hadn’t felt in a long time. Hope.

  


* * *

 


	6. The Curse & the Nightmare

* * *

 

 

She punched her robot-shaped alarm clock as hard as her numb arm would allow her to, just to stop the unbearable screech coming from it, and buried her head under her pillow with a groan of annoyance. Seventeen days. It had been seventeen days since she had decided to ignore that alarm in the morning and stay in bed for most of her days. Sometimes she would go out to do some grocery shopping, or hang out with her best friend when he insisted she should take some fresh air instead of suffocating in her tiny student room in an atmosphere heavy with a potpourri smell and thick with cigarette smoke. But often, so often, she would simply lie down on her bed, staring at the ceiling with loud rock music blaring through the speakers of her stereo, or sit against the shower wall under a spray of hot water, staring dumbly at that one cracked tile - bottom, third one from the left.

 

Mickey had insisted she should see a doctor, because she obviously was going through something akin to a depression episode, but she knew better. She was scared of going out, and she had very good reasons that no doctor would ever understand. Seventeen days. It had started seventeen days ago.

 

She remembered going to that party that had been organized by the student committee of her university to make all the singles on Valentine’s Day meet - or so the distasteful poster covered in hearts and cheesy puns advertised, when it was just an opportunity to get drunk with impunity. Mickey had prompted her to go despite her reticence - she had remembered the incident of the graduation party with way too much accuracy and refused to give that experience another try. But the promise of free booze had been convincing enough, and while she had turned down every invitation from some boys and a few girls, she had made the most of the liters of beer and vodka that kept flowing at the bar. It hadn’t been pretty. But she had danced, laughed and sung -  _ screamed  _ \- and it had been liberating after a whole term spent nose-deep into her astronomy and physics books. It would have been a perfect night, if it hadn’t ended in such a disaster.

 

Her forearm was still sore, and though it was scarring nicely and she always kept it hidden under a thick sleeve, it was still a painful reminder of what she had gone through. The booze hadn’t been enough  _ not  _ to see it, especially since she had taken off her jumper when the heat of the dancefloor coupled with her exertions had become too much to bear. At first she had just thought it was a deception from the spotlights, a trick her eyes played on her because of the wild rhythm of the stroboscopes. But then, there had been no mistaking the blue glow shining from the circles drawn on her skin. The memories were a bit fuzzy, but she remembered with acute precision the panic that had swelled in her stomach and drowned her body in a thick cloud of frenzied terror, the alcohol helping her on the way to dementia. It had been the first time since the graduation party that he mark had shown any sign of life, and in that moment of inhibition, she had been miles away from even considering it might light up again, and so taken off-guard that she hadn’t been able to deal with it in a rational way.

 

He arm heated up under her pillow as she thought back to that moment when her nails had lacerated her skin in a desperate attempt to make that light disappear - and that time, Mickey hadn’t been there to stop her. The few images she remembered were ones of blood spilling from the self-inflicted gashes on her skin, of her body being sent tumbling from on side to the other by the excited crowd of dancing people, of the dreadful neon light blinding her, even through the thickness of her blood. Someone must have helped her up at some point - not before someone had stepped on her shoulder and another one crushed her hand with their heels, or so the sequels she still bore hinted - and she barely remembered being thrown onto one of the chairs. And then she remembered the laughs. Something about her speaking words no one could understand, slurred words that didn’t make any sense, sounds that didn’t match any known song or melody. Her drunken state might have played its part in this, she tried to convince herself - though she perfectly knew she had been properly shouting for them to let her go and stop trying to calm her down. 

  
  


“Listen up, people, Space Girl is singing a Klingon song!” she remembered one of her classmate shout over the music.

“Shut up, Kieran, she’s hurt,” one of her friends had answered.

  
  


And after that, it was all a blur. A faint smell of sweat and heavy perfume, a lingering taste of juice mixed with alcohol, the loud beat of a rock song pounding in her ears and in her chest. The blinking lights of an ambulance, the tight squeeze of a bandage around her arm, the softness of her duvet as she was put to bed. The nausea, the headache of the morning later, the crushing guilt and the incomprehension of the events. And she had decided she wasn’t brave enough to face the scorn, the mockery and the questions that would crush what little was left of her dignity if she ever set foot in one of her class again. 

 

Two years she had spent studying every day, every night, with that wishful hope she wouldn’t end up like most people who were born and raised on a poor estate. Two years she had spent learning, searching, reading, writing about the stars, the planets, the universe. Two years struggling to make sense of mathematics, physics and astronomy with that piece of paper in mind. That one PhD that would read her name along with a title that would mean a better future. All of that, blown into tiny pieces by a single mark on her arm she believed was some kind of curse that was bound to follow in her steps, stick to her shadow and accompany her through life like the most persevering of predators after a weak and wounded prey. 

 

Her phone buzzed on the bedside table, the little pink bear she had attached to it falling over the edge onto the arm that was still holding the pillow over her head, as if it tried to tell her she should pick up. She muttered a curse under her breath and threw a quick look at the locked screen - ignoring the twenty-three missed call notifications, twenty-four if she counted that one she wouldn't answer either. Oh, she still loved Mickey dearly, and she always felt a bit guilty to ignore his calls. She simply didn’t want to be on the receiving end of his compassion she most definitely didn’t deserve, nor did she want to share anything remotely linked to her mark and the madness she thought was slowly taking possession of her brain.

 

He had been very understanding, even if she knew he didn’t quite believe her story. She had told him about the first meeting with the weird boy she remembered. She couldn’t be quite sure, but she truly believed he was the one who had gifted her with an odd song on the eve of her tenth birthday. Well, she said  _ a gift _ . More like the first incantation of the curse that was now bound to her soul and body, and starting to smother her very own life in its fatal grip. Mickey had told her she had been too young at the time to really remember anything, and that it had probably been just the childish fantasy of a little girl too excited about her upcoming birthday party. She had agreed and moved on with her story. 

 

To the time she had seen his deep, sparkling green eyes and his red curls at school on that rainy day. She couldn’t be quite sure, but she was fairly certain she had fallen in love with that boy at first sight, despite his common face and bizarre choice of clothes. Well, she said  _ fallen in love _ . More like he had enchanted her - no,  _ bewitched  _ her, because it had to be some kind of dark magic jinx and not a nice little spell out of a fairytale. Mickey had told her she didn’t really know what love was, and that love at first sight was just a myth people liked because it gave them hope. She had found some truth and wisdom in these words, and moved on with her story. 

 

To the time of the graduation party when she had seen him, lost in the massive crowd of student, staring at her while she was pissing herself on the stage. And when she had burnt half the face of that poor Will before what would have been a chaste first kiss. Mickey had told her that there had had to be a few redheads among the sea of people that night and that she couldn’t have seen them well with all those spotlights anyway. She had accepted this explanation, though she was still convinced it had been him. Mickey hadn’t said anything about what had happened with Will, because nothing rational could justify it. She hadn’t either, because every scenario she could come up with could only ever happen in fantasy or sci-fi movies, and she didn’t want her best friend to think she was ready to be sent to an asylum just yet.

 

She hadn’t told him about the link between that piece of paper she had picked up at the school after the boy had magically vanished into thin air - no, had managed to run away while she was still rushing down the stairs, she repeated aloud - and the circles that marred her skin. She hadn’t told him about the link between the lyrics of the song she had sung when she was just a child and the words she vaguely remembered shouting in the overflowed club seventeen days before - she had been drunk anyway, and anyone could come up with weird-sounding words to pretend they were speaking an alien language, she repeated aloud. She hadn’t told him about the link between the heat that spread through her arm, made the cursed circles burn, and those dreams she had every night, in which the red-haired boy always managed to make an apparition - it was just a psychological reaction of some sort and it had nothing to do with a bloody mysterious link, she repeated aloud.

 

She hadn’t told him about those things, because his eyes had been bewildered and sad enough when she had told him about the rest. She didn’t want his pity and she most definitely didn’t want to lose this precious friendship - which was bound to happen if she insisted on acting like a nutter spilling delusional stories and getting angry when he made close to no effort to believe her. She was alone in this. She’d always be alone.

  
  


“Oh for God’s sake,” she muttered angrily when a series of three sharp knocks made her door rumble. “I’m not in!”

“I’ll come in myself if you don’t open,” Mickey’s voice filtered through the door - and even muffled, she could hear the lassitude and exasperation laced through it.

“Christ…”

  
  


She kicked back the covers and threw her pink pillow across her tiny room with another loud huff. She dragged her feet to the door as she slipped her arms into the sleeves of her worn hoodie and simply flicked the lock open before returning to crash on her bed. 

  
  


“Damn, do I need to call the firefighters?” Mickey asked, his nose scrunching up at the heavy smell of cigarette floating in the room. “Can you at least open the window? It’s a bloody cancerigen sauna in here.”

“Is it?” she drawled with that mocking tone even she hated - which didn’t prevent her from lightning a half-consumed fag in a petty move of defiance. “At least it’s not weed, so there’s hope somewhere, I suppose.”

“Rose, you do realize you’re pushing me far beyond reasonable limits here, right?” he sighed as he went to the window of her kitchenette and opened it as far as it would go in the vain hope of clearing the excessive vapours. “When was the last time you went out? Or even showered, or ate, or drank water?”

“Oi, shut up Micks,” she growled, crushing her cigarette atop the small mountain of butts that had accumulated in her ashtray over the week. “I’m not a kid, yeah, I can take care of myself.”

“Yeah, obviously,” he said with a roll of his eyes. “Just get ready, will you? A chance I got there early or you would have missed it.”

“What the Hell are you talking about?”

“The half-term physics exam,” he told her as he went to the bathroom to fetch a clean towel from a cupboard. “You might want to throw your life away and ruin all the hard work you’ve done until now, but I won’t let that happen. Now move your ass, get a hot shower, get dressed and we’ll stop at Freddie’s for a quick meal. You can’t survive on Marlboros and that piss lager.”

“I haven’t been to class in two weeks, no point in going to a test I’ll fail,” she shrugged, reaching for a new pack of cigarettes.

  
  


She gasped when Mickey ripped the pack away from her hands, a furious scowl splattered over his features, and he snatched the two lighters from her bedside table before tossing them out the window. He then bent forward to face her and roughly cupped her face so he could stare at her, lest she’d look away to flee his accusing frown.

  
  


“This isn’t you, Rose!” he almost shouted, unable to feel any guilt when tears filled her whiskey eyes. “Look at you, God dammit! You used to be so pretty, so nice, so full of life. So bloody brilliant. What happened to you, eh? What happened to my best friend? What have you done to her?”

“Mickey…” she tried to apologize, but he wouldn’t give her that chance she didn’t deserve.

“I won’t swallow any more of your shite excuses, Rose,” he shook his head forcefully. “I’m done. Now get your ass in the shower and get ready, or I swear to anyone who’ll listen that I’ll grab you by the knickers and and throw you in it myself. Five minutes. If you’re not out I’ll barge in, naked or not. Go.”

  
  


She could only nod, too shocked to protest, and went to her tiny wardrobe to fetch clean clothes, feeling his oppressing gaze over her back as she disappeared into the bathroom and closed the door behind her. She waited until she had divested herself of her old hoodie, dirty jumper and soiled sweatpants, turned on the tap and made sure he wouldn’t hear her over the sound of water before she let the wave of sobs crash over her. The seconds were counting down and she knew he would hold true to his word, so she hopped into the shower and managed to find her bottle of peach-scented shampoo through the heavy tears and steam of the hot water. She fiercely avoided looking at the rosy scars drawing sharp lines on her forearm and the nacre circles etched under her skin. It didn’t stop her from cursing profusely at them. It didn’t help with the rage flowing in her veins, nor with the desperation sizzling in her stomach.

  
  


“That’s all because of you,” she seethed through her clenched teeth between two sobs. “What are you? What the fuck are you?”

  
  


She didn’t get an answer, and though it would have terrified her if she did, it only made her tears heavier. She lathered her shampoo through her blond locks with such jerky movements that she uprooted a few hairs and winced when her fingers met an unwilling knot - she actually couldn’t remember the last time she’d properly brushed them and her scalp was repaying that debt. She made a quick job of washing the rest of her body all while trying to tame the crying that refused to die down, and when she was done she quickly reached for the clean towel Mickey had prepared next to the sink and dried herself. She donned her clean clothes, and with a soft sigh she realized it felt rather good to be rid of the smell of cigarette and the disagreeable feeling of sticky fingers and filthy skin. Mickey hadn’t asked for much more, but, old habits dying hard, she felt compelled to add a layer of black eyeshadow and mascara - it had the advantage of mostly hiding her puffy eyes, which wasn’t a bad thing. 

  
  


“You doing okay in there?” Mickey asked through the door as she put her makeup back in its pouch.

“Yeah, done,” she answered, opening the door to see he had made her bed and prepared her backpack. “Mickey…”

“Be very careful about what you’re going to say, Rose,” he warned with a dark look.

“I just wanted to ask if you could brush my hair,” she said softly, handing him her hairbrush and a few rubber bands. “I’d like braids and you’re the best at making them.”

  
  


His eyes immediately softened at the unexpected request and a small smile finally greeted his features.

  
  


“‘Course I can, princess,” he nodded, sitting down on the bed next to her. “Regular braids, or something a bit fancier?”

“I like the fishtail ones,” she admitted with a sheepish shrug. “If it’s not too much to ask.”

“Er, I might be a bit out of practice, but I’ll give it my best shot, yeah?”

  
  


She closed her eyes as he started to carefully brush her hair, untying the bigger knots with his fingers so she wouldn’t feel too much pain, then going with the brush until her damp hair was smooth and evenly split on each side of her head. She had missed this. This had always been the kind of moments she loved to share with him, some intimate connection that sparked to life even if they didn’t talk. It was all in the way his hands spoke, when he tugged lightly on a strand, when his fingers whispered against the skin of her neck, when his palm hovered over her head right before he would flatten her hair. She closed her eyes to better appreciate it, playing that game she had devised that consisted in guessing where his hand would land next - a lame game he wasn't even aware she was playing, thus the often questioning raise of his eyebrows whenever she chuckled or tsked. It was so soothing that she would have gladly let him brush her hair before she went to bed so he could lull her to sleep.

  
  


“All done,” he declared with a proud smile as he snapped the last rubber band around the end of the braid. “Didn’t turn out that bad.”

“Thank you, Mickey,” she offered in return, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek as a reward.

“Any time, princess. So, put your coat and your shoes on and let’s get going. The exam’s in less than two hours and you need to feed the monster that seems to be living in your belly.”

“I ate a large pizza yesterday,” she pouted while she wrapped herself into her large pea jacket. “And chips. Like, lots of chips. My stomach is fine.”

“You stomach is a grease sack, it’s a wonder you’re not as large as your bed by now,” he rectified, following her through the door before she locked it. “Come on, now. We’re going to eat some real food for once, eh?”

“Yes, Sir…”

  
  


Half an hour later, she put down her plastic fork with a contented sigh, thinking that chicken salad was without a doubt the best she’d ever had. Mickey had excused himself a few minutes earlier, pretending he needed to go to the loo before they’d get on their way to the nearby university, and she had believed it. But then she watched in awe - and just a teeny bit of embarrassment - as he walked towards her with a goofy smile and a candle stuck askew in a large piece of chocolate cake. He set it down before her and planted a kiss on her temple as he tucked a silver spoon between en fingers.

  
  


“Didn’t think I’d have forgotten about your birthday, princess?” he playfully teased, seemingly pleased by the surprise written all over her face.

“Mickey I…” she started, though the sudden rush of emotion made it hard to master her trembling voice. “I didn’t… To be honest, I kinda forgot it was my birthday today.”

“And that’s what I’m here for,” he grinned, giving her ribs a gentle poke. “Even got you a present. Not much, mind, but I thought… Well, see for yourself.”

  
  


He reached inside his pocket and set a small package wrapped in a bright red paper sprinkled with tiny silver stars. She had no idea what was inside, but the simple fact that he had remembered her birthday and bought her something even after everything she had put him through was enough to bring tears to her eyes. She tore the paper with her quivering fingers and found a deep blue velvet box engraved with golden letters that read a brand name she had never seen before. She felt his anxious eyes on her as she untied the small bow tie on the side of the box and her breath hitched low in her throat when she saw it.

  
  


“Mickey, this is beautiful,” she whispered, freeing the item from the clasps to get a better look at it.

  
  


It was an elegant black fountain pen, slim and slightly curved, that was crowned with a shiny golden nib. But what struck her the most was the cap, on the top of which a tiny silver Saturn was welded, a fine work that was so accurate in its scaled proportion she had to inwardly salute whoever had carved it into the precious material.

  
  


“I want you to use it for all your upcoming exams,” Mickey stated, smiling at the way she reverently turned it into her hands and finally realized her name was chiseled into the gold clip. “I want you to look at that planet and remember why you’re doing this. This is your future, Rose. And I won’t let you give up. I’ve seen you work too damn hard for this. So promise me you won’t ever even consider giving up again. You’ll be a brilliant astrophysicist and you’re going to make me proud that I’m your best friend. Okay?”

“I don’t know what to say,” she chuckled through a sob, clasping her fingers around his.

“Just promise me you’ll get better and you’ll give that PhD your best shot. You can do it, Rose, I really mean it. I believe in you more than in anyone else.”

“I...Yeah, I promise,” she nodded before she drew him into a tight and comforting hug. “I love you, Mickey.”

“I love you too, princess. Just.... Don’t tell Martha I’ve said that.”

  
  


She laughed heartily at his comical grimace and stuffed a good piece of chocolate cake into her mouth. Oh yes, she loved Mickey. She would never, ever, risk losing his friendship again.

  
  


***

  
  


He wasn’t entirely satisfied with his choice of clothes, but then again, he wasn’t entirely satisfied with his body and his face either, so it made the disheartened resolve easier to swallow. He smoothed the few creases of his pinstriped jacket with the flat of his palms, tightened the knot of his deep brown tie sewn with blue flowers, pondered for a moment if he ought to trade those old chucks for polished shoes, decided he deserved to wear comfortable shoes after more than four centuries spent with hard-soled sandals, tugged on his brown spikes of hair - the only thing he actually quite liked about this body despite the woeful memory of his ginger curls.

 

Overall, he thought he could fit into her world. Remained to see if he could also fit into her life.

 

His guts twisted anxiously when he went to the Tardis door and his double heartbeat skyrocketed in his chest. The small pendant he was still wearing under his light blue Oxford shirt burnt in the small dip between his clavicles, and his soulmark lit to life as soon as the door opened on a small patch of green grass and a square of blue sky dotted with a few clouds. One breath of that cold air heavy with too much carbon and he could already smell her from the distance. One step outside and it was as if he could already feel the touch of her warm fingers against his cheek. One look towards that big building dominating the garden and his mind screamed and wailed when it felt her overwhelming presence, just over there, a minute away.

 

He choked on a sob and let his body fall back against the blue door of his ship, unable to trust his wobbling legs to hold his weight. More than four hundred years after feeling her for the first time. Two centuries after seeing her for the first time. The time had come. He was about to meet his soulmate. And, against his most tenacious beliefs, he wasn’t feeling as good as he had imagined. No. There was no joy, there was fear. There was no excitement, there was worry. There was no satisfaction, there was dread. Too many questions, too many doubts, not enough certitudes.

 

He swallowed hard past the lump in his throat and stop breathing when his stomach heaved and churned. He didn’t know why, but the fantasy that had guided his steps to this point was turning into a nightmare. 

 

* * *

 


	7. Galaxies

* * *

 

 

“You have one hour. Good luck everyone.”

  
  


_ Luck _ , she thought bitterly as she took out her brand new fountain pen out of its box. If she had had to count on luck to get a good mark at this exam, she might as well have walked out the amphitheatre in the second and given up on her studies forever. She was many things, but she wasn’t the kind of person to rely on luck - a concept foreign to her, something she had never experienced. Once, in primary school, she had won the annual lottery organized by her school to fund a new library and went home with a beautiful terrestrial globe. That could have been luck, if her aunt hadn’t admitted buying a good half of the tickets and begging the attendant to fake the results, thus depriving all the other kids of their own luck. Once, when she had been around fifteen, she had been stuck in bed with a horrible flu on the very same day she was supposed to go on a school trip to the modern art museum outside of town - she  _ hated  _ modern art. That could have been luck, if the trip hadn’t been cancelled at the last minute because the bus had never showed up. Once, on her eighteenth birthday, she had been offered that rare and terribly expensive book about the Milky Way she had been dying to get ever since she’d decided stars and planets were nothing short of a passion. Her mum had said she’d found it on a book fair stand and bought it for nothing from a man who obviously had no idea what he was selling. That could have been luck, if she hadn’t learnt a week later her mum had actually sold her grandmother’s gold pendant to buy the bloody book in a posh bookshop in the center of London. No, she had never really been lucky.

 

She tucked a strand of blond hair that had escaped from a tad too loose fishtail braid and took a deep breath. From what she could see, the exam seemed to be fairly easy. Mickey hadn’t been totally right when he’d told her it was a physics exam. Well, he had been right about the physics dimension of that test, but he had forgotten to tell her - or simply hadn’t known - that it actually was a  _ galaxies  _ exam. It was her favourite module, despite it being the most challenging of all, and it certainly wouldn’t have been boasting to say she could have written a whole research paper on the subject and do better than most of the postgraduates attending the same course. A smile spread on her face and she glanced on the side with a lifted thumb to let Mickey know she was going to do alright - he had accepted to accompany her should any of her classmates annoy her with the events of the party, which thankfully hadn’t been the case. Not like the teacher would notice one more head among the hundred of students sitting before him, anyway.

 

She readied her pen, shoved the scrap paper she wouldn’t need towards her best friend so he could occupy his hands for the next hour, and chuckled at the first question.  _ Classify the following galaxies according to their Hubble types _ .

  
  


“Is that even a serious question?” she mumbled under her breath, reading the three different types of galaxies only once before she wrote down her answers. “ _ E3, Sa, Irr II _ , next, thank you very much.”

  
  


She was relieved to find out she hadn’t forgotten a thing about her different lectures and all those things she had read and studied on her own for the past semester, and even more thrilled by the ease with which she could solve the equations and make her calculations. Two weeks had been enough to miss the sheer pleasure and pride she felt for knowing all of these things, for being able to reason, to deduct, to draw logical conclusions. She hadn’t been gifted with those abilities at birth and she had had to work hard on them, and nothing was more satisfying than seeing all that hard work pay off. Mickey was right. She was brilliant and she had no right to give up on her dreams. There was different between luck and chance. She believed luck was bestowed upon people without them having to do anything about it. And she believed chance was something people needed to be deserving of. She deserved her chance and she wouldn’t let others’ luck get in her way.

 

For a little more than fifty minutes, she filled her paper with formulas, numbers, short sentences, the page ended up covered in black ink scribbles she was sure were the right answers - physics and mathematics had the incommensurable advantage over literature and other philosophy subjects that there was only one possible answer. And then she finally reached the last question.  _ Describe how the interstellar medium, and thus a galaxy, can become enriched in metals.  _ That was one of the themes that must have been taught during one of the lectures she hadn’t attended, because she couldn’t remember the professor ever tackling this subject. Thankfully, she had read about that in one of her books dealing with stars, and she remembered everything about giant stars, stellar winds and supernovas, and how they all released heavy metals in the galaxies. She carefully capped her pen and set it down on her paper with a satisfied hum, going over her answers but finding nothing wrong with them.

  
  


“Don’t forget the red giants,” a voice suddenly breathed into her ear.

  
  


She gaped at Mickey, who was doodling on her scrap paper with a broken pencil that must have been abandoned on a desk, his chin cradled in his palm. He was right, of course, but she simply wondered how he could have known that she had overlooked this answer, let alone know about the answer - she doubted he had ever learnt about this kind of things during his apprenticeship in sports car mechanics.

  
  


“How did you know that?” she whispered to him, discreetly elbowing him in the ribs.   
“What?” he asked, obviously bored to death and on the verge of falling asleep.

“The red giants? How did you know?”

  
  
  


Mickey simply puffed through his closed lips, as if he didn’t know what she was talking about, and went back to his little drawings with a barely concealed yawn. She shrugged it off and started to write her last sentence at the bottom of the page. And that was when she saw it. She stopped breathing, carefully put her pen down on the desk and stared at it, her eyes steadily filling up with unshed tears. Her sleeve had ridden up her arm just enough for one tiny part of that mark to show. And it was softly glowing with a white, pulsating light.

  
  


“Mickey,” she breathed out, unable to move, barely able to articulate the words. “It’s doing it again.”

  
  


He straightened on his chair and his eyes zeroed on her arm - he knew what she was talking about. But, not unlike the first time, he couldn’t see anything wrong with it. What he could see, however, were the tears rolling down on his friend’s cheeks, the panic written all over her features, the way her fingers clenched and unclenched feverishly on the desk. 

  
  


“It’s okay, princess, just hand out your test now and we’ll go outside, yeah?” he urged, scared that she would do something stupid like run away without turning her paper in or burst into sobs in the middle of the ampitheatre. “Come on, I’ll pack your stuff, go.”

  
  


She could only nod, forcefully tugging on her sleeve to hide the dreadful mark, and grabbed her paper. She rushed down the flight of stairs to the professor’s desk, stuffed her paper in his hands and quickly signed the register before she ran back up and burst through the door. Mickey was waiting for her with her black backpack in one hand, the other reaching for her as soon as she joined him. She crashed into his arm and he wrapped his free arm around her, pressing a kiss on her temple as she finally let her emotions wash over her. 

  
  


“Hey, hey, it’s alright, princess,” Mickey tried to soothe her, rubbing tight circle over her back and letting his chin rest on the top of her head. “Let’s go outside, get some fresh air.”

“Do you think I’m bonkers, Micks?” she asked in a pain whisper as they slowly made their way to the garden.

“No,” he shook his head, keeping her close to his chest. “No, Rose, you’re not bonkers.”

  
  


Once outside, they walked to the nearest bench and sat down with their backs to the building, facing the vast field of grass in the middle of which stood an elaborate fountain topped with a statue of the University founder. There was no one in sight - the university wasn’t much frequented at that time of the year when students sat through a few exams and were free the rest of the day. As it happened, her class was the only one to have an exam on that day, thus the deserted garden that otherwise buzzed with conversations and laughs from hives of students. The only thing out of the ordinary was a weird police box that probably dated back to the late sixties - or so she remembered from the time when history was still part of her curriculum, but she couldn’t be quite sure. Probably some kind of modern art exposition born in the highly creative but just as odd art department. She hated modern art anyway.

  
  


“Show it to me?” Mickey asked softly, taking her hand to brush his thumb on her wrist.

  
  


She hesitated for almost a full minute, fiddling with the hem of her sleeve, using it to wipe the tears that hadn’t completely dried on her cheeks. And when her best friend encouraged her with a look and a whisper, she rolled it up her arm, terrified to find out it was still glowing. Each circle, each line, each dot looked as if it was lit up from behind by a bright neon bulb, and each of them felt hot, throbbing in tandem with the fast-paced heartbeat knocking against her ribcage. They were unscathed by the pink scars marring her skin and she winced at the remembrance of the gashes she had inflicted herself two weeks earlier. She shivered deeply as Mickey ran his fingertips over the nacre lines etched under her skin, and they burnt hotter, deeper, as if they didn’t appreciate that friendly contact. It wasn’t the first time she believed that mark had a consciousness of its own - and maybe that proved she actually was crazy.

  
  


“Can you see it?” she asked in a whisper - the light reflected against his dark skin, surely if this was really happening he would see it. “Please tell me you can see it.”

“I’m sorry, princess,” he apologized with a sheepish shrug. “I wish I could tell you I do but… It’s just… I don’t know, it just looks like those fancy white ink tattoo they do nowadays. But there’s no light, or  _ glow  _ or anything.”

“Okay… Mickey, I… Do you think I should see someone? A psychiatrist or something?”

“Oh, Rose…” he sighed, his sad frown and the way he bit his lip eloquent enough for her to shed more tears. “That’s… All I know is I can’t help you with this. And I also know you can’t stay like that forever. I think… Maybe it’s not a bad idea to give it a try?”

“What if they say I’m crazy?” she sobbed quietly, pulling on her sleeve to hide that awful, still glowing mark away. “What if they send me to an asylum? And don’t tell me you’re not going to let that happen, ‘cause you know just as well they can do whatever they want.”

“Okay, listen to me, princess, here’s what we’re going to do. There has to be a hotline or some kind of website that can offer some counselling, anonymously. We can look into that and start from here, what do you say, hm?”

“Yeah, that’s… Good idea. Mickey, this… This can’t happen only to me, right? There has to be someone else who’s going through the same thing, I can’t… Gosh, maybe I  _ am  _ crazy.”

“If you were, that’s not something you would say,” he smiled, helping her roll down her sleeve over the mark. “Crazy people don’t know they’re crazy. They just are. To them, it’s the rest of the world that’s crazy.”

“Yeah, well thanks for that, Mister Wiseman,” she giggled despite the tears struggling to dry on her cheeks. “Will you… Do it with me? The counselling I mean?”

“‘Course I will, princess. Tell you what, I’m gonna grab something to eat at the cafeteria and we can go back to your place. Do you want to come?”

“I’d rather stay here for a bit, if you don’t mind,” she shrugged as she reached into her backpack to take out her wallet. “Get me a cheese and onion sandwich?”

“Sure thing, princess. I’ll be back in a tick.”

  
  


She willingly cocked her head to the side so he could plant another one of his signature kiss on her temple and watched him briskly walk towards the small cafeteria with a fond smile. She had no idea what her life would be like without her best friend, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to know anyway. He probably was the bearing wall of her very existence, the one person without whom she would have spiralled down a tornado of trouble and despair, and she couldn’t be more grateful than she was in that moment. Maybe she was lucky, after all. Lucky to have him. 

 

Her eyes were drawn back to the blue police box, to the worn paint of its wood, to the light sitting on its roof, to the two signs stuck on its doors. From what she could see, it was a fairly accurate representation of the historical thing, but then again, she wasn’t what they’d call a history specialist. She got to her feet and approached the big box, taking in to the tiniest of details - that one small crack on a window, the chunk of wood that was missing on one of its angles, the scraped off paint around the somewhat rusty handle. It did look realistic and she even admitted it was a piece of art worth checking out - modern art, yes, but at least it wasn’t like all those weird sculptures and so-called performances that didn’t make any sense and that she considered to be _ intellectual wanking _ .

 

She brushed her fingertips against one of the signs and snorted quietly at the words she could read.  _ Advice and Assistance Obtainable Immediately _ .

  
  


“Yeah, I wish,” she muttered under her breath, thinking it very unamusing to be teased by a silly painted wood plank. “Assist my ass immediately and tell me what the Hell is wrong with me, then.”

“Maybe I can.”

  
  


Her heart somersaulted in her chest at the sound of that quiet whisper that came from the other side of the blue box, and she recognized the same voice that had pointed out the red giants during her exam. Her knees turned to jelly, but she managed to take a step to the side and steal a peek at the corner of the box, not really knowing what to expect. Nothing. Nothing but the sound of quick steps and a fleeting shadow disappearing behind the other corner.

  
  


“Hello?” she called out, following the wall of the box with her fingers to reach the other corner.

  
  


A few more sounds of steps, the same shadow disappearing again, a mutter - a curse, she believed, but a curse that made her throat tighten and her stomach churn violently. A curse that reminded her of the odd song she had sung on her tenth birthday, with its melodious harmonies, its heart-wrenching vibrations, its beautiful music. The circles on her arm suddenly smoldered her skin faster than a roaring brazier and they shone with such an intensity she could see the white light filter through the meshes of her jumper. It wasn’t painful. The searing headache the bloomed at the base of her skull was. A powerful throb that echoed the wild rhythm of her heartbeat, harsh pangs that made her think someone was tugging at her mind and trying to steal her thoughts, her feelings, her very soul from her. 

  
  


“Hello?” she called again - and this time her voice was nothing more than a soft, shuddering murmur that fought to fall from her lips. 

  
  


She ignored the white dots that flashed behind her eyes and kept circling the box on wobbly legs, hoping she wouldn’t faint before she could see the person playing with her sanity. She heard a low rumble, another muttered curse, and felt a wave of panic flow through her entire body - a panic she had no idea was coming from, because all she could feel was that scalding headache, the fear of meeting that person, the wild hope that they might be the one to have all the answers to her questions. There had to be a reason why her mark had come to life with so much power and so much strength, why that odd voice has struck such deep chords within her, why her head was full of a foreign presence that was both terrifying and comforting.

 

She followed the edge of the box, stumbling at each step because of those legs that seemed to have been drained of all their energy, and sneaked a peek at the doors. Her knees almost gave up under her weight when she saw him. A tall man, dressed in a pinstriped suit, his scrawny features torn into the purest expression of panic - much like the one she was feeling, she realized. He was giving the door hard and quick kicks with his worn and dirty chucks, trying to burst it open with hard shoves of his shoulder, pulling on the handle like a madman - which was a bit weird, considering the rest of his body was aiming at the exact opposite. From so close, she could hear the same words, the same tunes tumbling down his pouty lower lip. And she could also see half a circle, shining with a bright, almost blinding white light, just at the edge of his shirt sleeve, under his pale skin pulled taut by his angry movements. A circle like her own. A circle that made her both so happy and so scared she couldn't help the ball of mixed emotions growing in her chest, pressing against her heart painfully and bringing renewed tears to her eyes - there would come a day she wouldn't be able to cry any longer, she believed.

  
  


“Hello?” she cried, her shoulders shaking with the force of her sobs.

  
  


His head shot to the side and his mouth parted in a silent cry of horror, while she took one last step towards him, unable to believe what she was seeing in those deep chocolate eyes.

  
  


“Hello,” he choked out after clearing his throat several times, rocking on the balls of his feet with a sheepish smile. “I’m the Doctor.”

 

* * *

 


	8. Hello, I'm the Doctor

* * *

 

 

Hopefully, the feeling would go away soon enough. But hope was something he knew rare and precious, and he wasn’t quite sure hope would manage to fight off the waves of panic and worry blooming in the pit of his stomach anyway. He felt like his mind had been poisoned, leeching fear and doubt, anger and despair, and was slowly percolating between his two hearts and seeping into his system like a vicious toxin. Did all the others feel that way when they were about to meet their soulmates for the first time? He thought not. He had seen countless of his own people living the moment, and none of them had seemed on the verge of vomiting or committing suicide - though suicide was a concept he wasn’t particularly familiar with, given that Time Lords had too much respect for the life they’d been given and cherished it for as long as destiny would allow. He remembered the smiles, the excitement, the joy, the euphoria. Things he had built his own fantasy over, but that carefully constructed scenario was crumbling down faster than a card castle into a tempest. 

 

He could feel her, in the distance, inside that building, and his mark flared painfully to life under the sleeves of his light blue Oxford and his perfectly ironed pinstriped jacket. He could feel his soulmate. He could feel the hurt, the sorrow, the lassitude, and those were probably the roots of his own dread. The fear that came with that one thought, would he be able to soothe her pain or would he just add to the pile of all the troubles she seemed to have fallen prey to. The panic, that came with the conviction she was sad because of him and that he’d only add incomprehension on the tower of destructive beliefs she was locked into. The anger that he had been the one - even unconsciously - to drive his soulmate to the brink of deleterious misery, to be the cause of all those tears he somehow knew had left indelebile tracks on her cheeks. 

 

It made him realize just how powerful the link that weaved between soulmates could be and it made him sick to think that those awful feelings might be the only ones he’d ever get to experience if he lingered around any longer. Not only that, but he also dreaded she’d have to live with them for the rest of her days, too. And he refused to be the cause of any more of her pain. That was a risk he refused to take. He’d have to get away, far into the darkest corners of the universe with the uncertain assumption that it would be enough to severe the link, or at the very least dampen its effect, stretch it so thin and long that only the memory of the pain would remain. He would do anything to protect his soulmate, even if that meant swimming against the currents of destiny and leave that small part of his mind empty and colder than a night on the frozen planet of Pligmite.

 

He wiped the tears that were following the curves of his hollowed cheeks and, after one last sigh, inhaled deeply a breath of that air that carried a faint smell of something fruity, something he knew was her smell. The only thing he’d get to really know about her, and the only thing he knew would haunt him through the course of all the long and lonely centuries that were to come.

  
  


“I’m sorry,” he whispered, turning on his feet to go back inside the Tardis.

  
  


He reached for the handle and hissed in pain when a jolt of electricity coursed through his arm, and an angry growl yanked at the back of his mind. 

  
  


“What are you doing?” he muttered as he tried to open the door again, only to be shocked again. “Just let me in, stupid ship, we have to go.”

  
  


The door resisted, over and over again, and though the message was quite clear - don’t come back before you’ve seen her, or something of the like, he stubbornly kept trying. Until the ship got enough of his obstination and struck his fingers with so much power the hairs on the back of his hand burnt and he had the reflex to jump back, a hard scowl of annoyance plastered over his features.

  
  


“I’ve had enough of you,” he sputtered with an irritated look thrown at the light crowning the blue box that was flashing mockingly at him. “You are  _ my  _ Tardis, you’re supposed to do as I say.”

  
  


A miffed scoff fueled the ire of the ship and he had to wince when his mind was pulled out of its natural stream to be replaced by the furious spirit of his blue blox. He pressed his palms into a tight lock against his temples, tumbled backwards under the force of her attack and remembered it never was a good idea to upset a Tardis. Their power was immense, their thoughts unyielding and their retribution disproportionate. If he kept disproving of her behaviour, she would probably lock him out for a century and he’d have to beg for her forgiveness for at least three regenerations - a prospect that was almost as detestable as leaving his soulmate behind.

  
  


“Fine, you win,” he mumbled, tugging on the hem of his jacket to straighten it. “I’ll see her. Just  _ see  _ her, but she won’t see me. I will not add to her burden, is that clear, you rebellious idiot ship?”

  
  


He directed an obscene, almost childish gesture towards the door of the blue box and spun on his heels to face the building he didn’t want to walk into. If that was all it took to please his ship and be able to run away, so be it. His nostrils flared and he breathed in the soft breeze that hauled the heavenly smell of her, that very distinctive smell he picked up enough to guide his steps. Better to follow a pleasant physical trail than grope his way through the heartbreaking tendrils of her mind, he believed - though that fragrance did a poor job at shielding him from them, at least he had something relatively positive to focus on. He crossed the field of green grass, that was humid and squished under his rubber soles, and reached the open-air corridor sided with tall columns of stone - concrete, he recognized, which meant they weren’t as old as they looked, and once again pointed at how drawn to the past these humans could be. Her smell grew stronger when he stepped beyond the arch, so pungent to his highly accurate olfactive abilities he thought he could have gotten drunk on it within mere minutes, so heavy he could almost see its vapours floating along the draughts of wind blowing through the corridor. He followed it to a large double door, each panel pierced with a tiny square window, and his hearts contracted painfully in his chest at the sudden rush of emotions that had his mind struggle to fly away never to come back. Same pain, same sorrow, but there was something else filtering through those waves. A glimmer of happiness. A hint of relief. A speck of pride. A definite breath of love. Like a cat which wants to test the waters with a quick dip of its paw, the carefully weaved silken ropes of his mind reached out to those feelings, with the somewhat vain hope they could be for him.

 

He took a deep, calming breath and peered through one of the windows. It felt like he was smiling for the first time - probably showing too many teeth, the muscles of cheeks straining so hard he was sure they’d freeze into this goofy grin forever, his throat bobbing up and down as he fought a pugnacious fit of giggles. But he smiled. All it took was a glance at the peroxided blond hair tied into loose braids, at the pale slender nape of her neck, at the deep blue wool jumper she was wearing. And he smiled. It was her. His soulmate. He wanted to burst through those doors and hug her and kiss her and love her, but he couldn't. A quick glimpse around the room - how he managed to detach his eyes from her, he didn't know - and he understood all those students were probably sitting through the same kind of tests he had back at the Academy. 

 

So he carefully and silently opened one of the door, slipping through the gap with less noise than the whisper of a butterfly and sitting down behind a desk, just two rows behind her. With the pendant he was wearing, no one would notice him - thank the perception filter technology his people had come up with a few millenia back - so he took a moment to compose himself and fight off the desire to poke her in the back so she would look at him. It wasn’t easy. To see her move, shift on her chair, brush her cute braids out of the way, roll the joints of her shoulders, it made it real. For two centuries he had only relied on the memory that fleeting image he’d caught of her behind that window, a beautiful picture, yes, but just a picture. Enough to keep hope alive, not enough to prepare himself for the overwhelming reality of all those sensations. Her perfume, her warmth, her presence. The tangible outreach of her mind, the powerful intensity of her emotions. He wanted to drown in them. Wanted to drown in  _ her _ .

 

Unable to resist the temptation, he got on row closer to her and swallowed a sigh of delight when her heat enveloped him in a warm cocoon. His eyelids fluttered, but he refused to close his eyes because he knew he was bound to lose himself in the torrent of joy that swirled in his stomach, and he didn’t quite fancy being caught in a moment of weakness - what a horrible first impression that would make. So, to keep his roaring feelings away from her, he looked over her shoulder to peek at what she was doing. Human physics, he immediately recognized - nothing fancy or complicated, but he remembered humans weren’t particularly good at sciences and that paper probably was a higher level one. His eyes trailed over the answers she had written down on her sheet and his deliriously happy smile turned into a proud one. Oh, she was a clever one, his soulmate. Everything was right. Except for that one last question at the bottom of the page, just one thing was missing, and…

  
  


“Don’t forget the red giants,” he whispered before he could stop the words from falling. 

  
  


He clasped his hands over his mouth before his horrified shriek could follow in the steps of his incongruous intervention and he anxiously waited for her reaction. Perception filters supposedly didn’t work with soulmates because of their connection, and he didn’t really want to find out about it under such circumstances. Thankfully, she only turned towards that one young man sitting on her left - a friend, or so he hoped, and she didn’t seem to have noticed his different voice nor the feel of his breath against her ear, which was a relief. But as she looked to her side, he saw her. Finally saw her, and that wasn’t a relief at all. His hearts flew to his throat at the sight of her face and his mouth gaped in awe at her beauty. Her eyes, her deep whiskey eyes underlined by carbon black makeup, her round nose scrunching up in confusion, her full, pink lips and her well defined features. Oh, he perfectly remembered how pretty she had looked the first he’d seen her, but this wasn’t mere  _ prettiness _ . This was pure, unsullied delicacy and natural elegance, a face that must have been carved into the most precious and refined material of the Heavens above. His soulmark boiled under his skin at the thought that this beauty could be his, that he had been blessed with that young woman he was already in love with - and had been for two centuries, as a matter of fact, this only confirmed it.

  
  


“Mickey,” he heard her say - and that voice, that beautiful and quiet voice couldn’t hide the definite worry lingering along the words. “It’s doing it again.”

  
  


He noticed how her friend suddenly became fidgety and hurriedly whispered for her to hand out her paper and leave. Panic seized him and he quickly got back to his feet, his mark turning to excruciating flames licking at his arm as he fled the amphitheatre as fast as his long legs would allow him to. He wasn't ready to meet her. He wasn’t ready. Maybe he’d never be ready. He ran back along the corridor and towards the blue box patiently waiting for him in the middle of the square of grass framed with a few benches, his tie flagging behind and his flat plastic soles squeaking against the wet ground. His shoulder bumped heavily against the door and his fingers found the handle - this time, his ship deemed necessary to shock him. Still, the door remained firmly closed despite his best attempts at prying it open.

  
  


“Come on,” he close to shouted, kicking and punching the stubborn door with his wiry limbs. “I’ve seen her, okay, so just let me in now.”

  
  


But it was too late. He spun on his feet when his ear picked up the sound of the amphitheatre door opening and he saw her, his soulmate, run into the arms of her friend.  _ Please don’t let them come this way _ , he begged under his breath, his eyes feverishly trying to find an escape route should his prayers remain unheard. There was nothing but a naked garden all around, apart from that one ugly fountain, haphazardly planted flowers and a few birds pecking the grass in search of earthworms. He cursed at his rebel ship and groped his way around it to hide behind its back when he saw them walking towards him. His body plopped back against the wooden panel and he sighed wearily, with nothing more to hope for but for them not to decide to spend the entire afternoon there. He could only listen to them settle down on the bench sitting just in front of the Tardis door, doing his best not to eavesdrop on the seemingly important conversation they were having. But then, he heard something about a light and a tattoo, and he looked down at his soulmark that was still glowing under his sleeves.  _ Crazy _ , he also heard. His stomach churned and understanding dawned on him. Of course, she didn’t understand what this mark was. Humans didn’t know a single thing about soulmates - for all he knew, his soulmate was the first human soulmate throughout millenia of Gallifreyan history. For one moment, he tried to imagine what it felt like to have a mark like this one, glowing and hurting and heating up for no apparent reason, without having as single as to where it came from of why it behaved that way. Of course. That was why she was buried under so many heavy, toxic feelings. She thought she was crazy because of a silly soulmark that linked her soul to his - and he’d been a  _ marvellous  _ help. Unable to rein his emotions and be the master of feelings, he was now sure her mark had lit to life more often than he dared to even imagine. 

  
  


“I’m so sorry,” he murmured, a sad tear rolling down his cheek. “I’m so very sorry.”

  
  


Absorbed in the self-hatred that sizzled in the pit of his stomach, he didn’t notice his soulmate and her friend had suddenly gone silent. What he did hear was the encouraging hum of the Tardis making the back of his head buzz, and that beautiful voice speak from the other side of the ship.

  
  


“Yeah, I wish,” were the first words he heard - and for a second he believed she was answering his heartfelt apology. “Assist my ass immediately and tell me what the Hell is wrong with me, then.”

“Maybe I can.”

  
  


He froze against the back wall of his Tardis and made his nails screech against the wood, furious that his ship would even dare take control of his mind to make him utter such stupid words. He heard quiet and slow footsteps, and he gasped in utmost terror as he fled to the other side of the ship.

  
  


“Hello?” - and it shattered his hearts to pick up all those faint traces of hope and dread running along such a voice.

  
  


_ Please, just go _ , he thought hard and loud, disappearing at yet another corner of his ship to remain out of sight. He didn’t want to be seen, he didn’t want to talk to her, he didn’t want to meet her. He wasn’t ready. He just wasn’t ready.  _ Just go _ . His mind wen rampant, on a wild chase to hers, and there was nothing he could do about it. Ready or not, they were meant to meet, and no matter how hard he’d try, that was a fight he would lose. He still tried.

  
  


“Hello?” a soft, shuddering whisper repeated.

  
  


He cursed under his breath and quickly followed the edge of the ship until he reached the doors.  _ Please, let me in _ . He tried the handle again, but, again, the door wouldn’t budge.  _ Please, for Rassilon’s sake _ . Thinking it better to try everything and risk breaking his Tardis than fall face to face with a soulmate he had already let down on more than one occasion even before meeting her, he kicked and slammed his shoulder against the door, pulled on the handle so hard the metal cut though his skin, a profusion of renewed curses and growls flowing out of his mouth in an endless stream. His muscles screamed and his mind roared,   _ bloody, stupid ship, let me in _ .

  
  


“Hello?”

  
  


His head shot to the side and his mouth parted in a silent cry of horror as he watched her, his beautiful soulmate, take one last step towards him and stop so close to him her smell and warmth made him weak in the knees. It almost killed him to see her shoulders shaking with the force of her sobs, to see the heavy tears hanging to her mascara-packed eyelashes and streaming down her cheeks, to see how hopeful, scared and overwhelmed she seemed to be. But there she was at last. His soulmate. All the introductions he had masterfully crafted for that one, unique occasion were forgotten in the abyss to which his brain had turned. This was his soulmate. He needed to speak. So he spoke.

  
  


“Hello,” he choked out after clearing his throat several times, rocking on the balls of his feet with a sheepish smile. “I’m the Doctor.”

  
  


He stopped breathing after that, simply watching her as she cocked her head to the side and stared into his eyes with a confused frown. It lasted for a long time, much too long, and he had to release a shaky sigh when his lungs started to burn. He didn’t quite know what he expected her to do, or even to say. He didn’t know any better what to do or to say himself. His whole body shivered when she reached out with her fingertips and brushed them against his cheeks, so lightly he might have as well dreamt it. Her thumb hovered under his eye, and only then did he realize her tears matched his. He was crying. Still holding her deep, penetrating gaze, his own fingers went to roll up his sleeves up to the crook of his elbow. The mark was shining so much that it was enough for the bright white light to make the both of them squint, even without looking at it. And then she smiled - and he knew no smile would ever come to be as beautiful and perfect as this one she graced him with.

  
  


“Nice to finally meet you in person, Doctor;” she whispered, bringing her other hand to the side of his face. “I’m Rose. Rose Tyler.”

  
  


* * *

 


	9. Gifted

* * *

 

 

Never before had her mark burnt so much as the moment when her fingers met the soft skin of his cheek, and she didn’t need to pull her sleeve out of the way to know it was probably glowing just as bright as his. She should have been scared by the implicit trust she felt for this odd man with the wonky features and the sheepish smile, but she found everything she had ever wanted,  _ needed _ , in the depth of his sparkling brown eyes coated with a thin layer of tears. She could see his fears, his doubts, the same ones she had been feeling for so long, but she could also see his raw joy and unadulterated fondness uncertainly painted over his features, as if he hadn’t been prepared to feel that kind of emotions. But what disconcerted her the most was that she could recognize the exact same gaze she had seen a few years back at school. At that time, those eyes had been emerald green, and they had belonged to a face that was at the exact opposite of the one before her. She knew he was the same boy she had caught staring at the corner of the building, behind the window of the bathroom. She couldn’t explain why it was so obvious, or how this could even pertain to the realm of possibilities, but she knew. He was the boy she had fallen in love with at first sight on that rainy day. And the tornado of emotions twirling in the pit of her stomach, making her heart stutter in her ribcage and stealing her breath away only confirmed this impossible feeling. 

 

He couldn’t quite fathom the succession of emotions he saw reeling in her soft whiskey eyes, but what was happening was beyond any kind of rational explanation. He was tempted to reach out with his mind to fully understand the roller coaster of emotions she was riding on, join their souls in a tangle of love and comfort in the vain hope it would be enough to soothe her worries and brush her disquietude away. He decided against it. She was already dealing with the mystery that was his sole presence, probably wondering who he was, asking herself simple questions she couldn’t even begin to find answers to. No need to add to her troublesome interrogations with something that literally was out of this world. So, he anxiously watched and let her feel what she wanted to feel, hoping she wouldn’t run away. 

 

_ Rose Tyler _ . Her name quietly rolled on the tip of his tongue and his smile turned into a full beam.  _ Rose _ . The beautiful earthian flower, colourful, large and soft petals, a steam covered in sharp, pointy thorns and spiky green leaves. The equivalent of the Gallifreyan  _ Hulis _ , he realized. He would have been unable to describe how it made him feel, to see and hear the one name that proved she truly was the one. Her divine beauty superseded that of any flower and he was convinced she was a strong-willed, fierce woman underneath all that softness and kindness. The perfect balance between quiet love and raw passion, comforting safety and frightening danger, delightful tenderness and rough harshness. She was everything he’d ever needed and everything he’d ever need., he was sure of that, and though it made him deliriously happy, it also awakened something akin to acute terror. She was so much more than the wildest of his expectations, and he was less, much less that what he ought to be. He wasn’t worth such perfection. 

 

But then, she brought her second hand to cup his face, took one step closer - and he stopped breathing when her knees bumped against his shins, swallowed hard when her forearms pressed against his chest, closed his eyes to better appreciate the feel of her warm fingers against his skin. And all his worries died in the wildfire that spread through his limbs and he knew that, no matter how selfish and unworthy he was, he would love and cherish his soulmate until the end of times, feast on her own love and drown in her affection for as long as she would allow him to. Because, yes, if he wasn’t mistaken, that was love in her eyes. Shy, uncertain, bewildered, confused, but it was love. A quivering sigh left his lips and he opened his eyes again, bringing his own hands to her reddened cheeks that felt heartwarmingly  _ real  _ under his fingers.

  
  


“Rose,” he murmured - and though he thought his tongue and flawed English didn’t do that precious name any justice, it still rang like the most perfect harmony in his ears. “There’s so much I need to tell you.”

  
  


She chuckled at those words and rolled her eyes, as if she had almost expected him to open the conversation on that kind of obvious statement. She opened her mouth to answer, but her cell phone rang with an unsettling simultaneity that pierced the bubble they were floating in - and she realized that, contrary to what her overwhelmed and hazy brain had her believe, time hadn’t stopped. She apologized with a small smile and unwillingly broke the contact, her hands dropping from his face and her eyes going to the screen of her phone. 

  
  


“What is it, Mickey?” she asked after picking up, her stomach churning as if she’d been caught doing something wrong. “Yeah, that’s fine. Sure. Yep, see you in a bit.”

  
  


He watched as she shoved her phone back in her pocket, and his smile faded when she took a step back, giving his hand one last brush of her fingertips. He didn’t want her to go, he didn’t want to see her leave, not when they’d barely spoken when there was so much left to say, not when they’d barely enjoyed each other enough after years of longing. But she kept walking back.

  
  


“I’m sorry,” she offered, a frown of compassion spreading over her angelic features. “It’s Mickey, he… My best friend, I need… I need to go.”

  
  


He didn’t trust his voice, the ball growing in his throat making it quite clear only a breath would filter through at best, a weird gurgle of pain at worst, and he could only shrug in return. She was already leaving him. 

  
  


“Can you find me again?” she asked, the hope her heard in that question a soothing balm to his insecurities - oh, she wasn’t leaving, merely  _ postponing _ .

“I’ll find you,” he promised with a reassuring, though trembling smile. “Wherever you are in this universe, I’ll always find you.”

“Soon?”

“Whenever you’ll think of me,” he said - and though she didn’t understand how this could be possible, she believed him.

“Soon,” she repeated, gracing him with a large smile and a wave of her hand. “Gotta go. But soon.”

  
  


He couldn't keep his eyes off of her as she merrily giggled and gifted him with a blown kiss before she broke into a run in the opposite direction, snatching her backpack from the bench on her way. He followed her course to the other end of the garden, marvelling at that little piece of woman he had dreamt of for more than four centuries, who had managed to make his hearts burst in less than a second, just with a fleeting touch of her fingers and a tender look. He wanted to be disappointed that she was already gone, but he didn’t think he’d ever be able to have that kind of low-scale reactions again. 

 

Meeting her had taught him the power of feelings, she had unlocked the gates to that one part of him that held all those things he had safely tucked away, the surface of his hearts frayed, raw emotions pouring from the swarming heat of his senses. He’d never be happy again - he’d be thrilled and jubilant and delighted. Never be sad again - desperate, hurt deep down to his bone marrow, heartbroken, that, he could be. He’d never simply love again - he’d survive on devotion and passion and adoration, and _love_ , that rubbish human word, would never encompass the raw and scorching reality of everything he felt for her.

 

He waited until she disappeared at a corner of a building, an almost painful smile sketched all over his face and his whole body snaked and wavered as he improvised a few overjoyed dance moves.

  
  


“Soon!” he crooned aloud, spreading his arms before him and shuffling back to the door, shoving it open with an awkward sidestep, his head bobbing to the imaginary song he hummed in the back of his throat. “Soon, soon, soon.”

  
  


He didn’t even realize the Tardis had gladly unlocked the door, that the time rotor was buzzing with a cheerful tune, that she was flooding his mind and body with exhilarated happiness. He waltzed around the console, flicking switches, pulling levers and smashing buttons in perfect sync with each click of his tongue and smack of his lips, his rubber chucks squeaking against the grating in protest every time he deviated his course on a wild whim.

  
  


“Come on, old girl!” he shouted at the ceiling, slapping the time rotor with his palms. “We’ve got some shopping to do!”

 

***

 

“Rose, are you…  _ Alright _ ?”

  
  


She glanced at her best friend, who was staring at her in mild confusion and something she’d have trouble as defining a anything else than worry. Of course, she had been unable to keep a smile off her face ever since she had left that man on the side of the blue box, her stomach bubbling with too much joy and excitement to look sad and properly beaten down - Mickey thought she had been depressed just a few hours back, it was only normal that he’d be troubled by her sudden good mood. She had even laughed at his bad puns and bantered with him all the way up to her tiny flat, a habit she had lost long ago but that she still mastered like no one else. While she hadn’t done anything more than pecking at junk food for weeks, she had happily munched on her sandwich and even insisted on eating the salad Mickey always pinched off his own, thieving a few of his crisps when he wasn’t looking and complaining loudly that her bottle of apple juice hadn’t possibly been full when he’d bought it.

 

When they’d gotten home, she hadn’t had the heart to tell him his counselling plan was now useless, and they found themselves browsing websites on her lousy computer, sifting through dozens of forums and pages, writing down telephone numbers and saving chatroom addresses she could use later. She discreetly sneaked a peek at her robot clock on the bedside table, and, judging that an hour and a half of an enterprise that wouldn’t bear any fruitful result was enough, she faked a yawn and stretched on her chair. Well, she didn’t really pretend to yawn, because the boredom she felt was more than enough to make her feel tired. Being bored would have been fine, and she could have indulged Mickey some more time, but not only was she exhaustingly disinterested by what they were doing, she also couldn’t stop thinking about her weird man. She feared he would break through her door at any given time - he hadn’t been particularly accurate regarding the  _ thinking  _ part, and either one thought of his name would be enough, or she’d need to chant prayers in her head for him to appear. She didn’t know, and until she knew, she couldn’t take the risk of a mysterious man barging in her flat while Mickey was still there.

  
  


“I’m just tired, Mickey,” she eventually shrugged when she realized he was still waiting for an answer, rubbing her eyes with the heels of her palms. “And, honestly, we have enough numbers here, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right,” he smiled as he picked up the few post-its spread over her desk. “Do you want to give one of them a try?”

“Er, could we do it tomorrow instead?” she asked as she rose from her chair to pick up a can of soda in her kitchenette. “Look, I’m better already, I just needed a kick in my butt and almost losing my best friend was just what I needed.”

“Are you sure?” he insisted - because he definitely wasn’t and he didn’t want to leave until he was properly reassured.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” she nodded, wrapping her arms around his shoulders from behind to plant  kiss on his cheek. “Thank you, Micks, but honestly, I’ll be fine. I’m just gonna sleep on it and if that can make you feel better, we’ll do it tomorrow first thing, ‘kay?”

“Alright, whatever,” he finally accepted, stacking his notes under the foot of her lamp so they wouldn’t end up lost or inadvertently chucked into the bin. “I should go anyway, I can’t have Martha be stood up again, she’s going to kill me. Call me if you need anything.”

“I will. Enjoy your date, Mickey.”

“Goodnight, princess, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  
  


She accompanied him back to her door and playfully shoved him outside after kissing his cheek goodbye, waving at his back until he disappeared at the corner of the corridor. When she made sure he wasn’t coming back and checked he hadn’t left anything behind him, she closed the door and leaned her back against it with a heavy sigh, taking in the desolate sight of her flat. If that man was coming tonight, she needed to do a bit of cleaning and ordering the mess that had steadily piled up on every piece of furniture over the last few weeks. She had never been one to really care about a tidy life space, and she even prided herself in being able to find whatever she was looking for within mere seconds when she needed it, even if it was buried deep at the bottom of a junk heap gathering dust on a cupboard. So, she went to the kitchen to grab a bin bag and started to walk around the small space, throwing stuff she would never need again, food leftovers that were starting to show signs of decay, the ashtray that was overflowed with cigarettes stubs.

 

Oh, if she was being honest with herself, she only did it to keep her thoughts away from  _ him _ . Part of her was dying to meet him again, to feel his beautiful eyes on her again, to get all the answers to her questions, to enjoy the touch of his hands again and even kiss that pouty lip and run her fingers through his glorious hair. The other part was scared. She didn’t know him, she hadn’t forgotten everything she had gone through, most probably because of him, she couldn’t explain why she felt that way towards a total stranger. It wasn’t wise to invite a bloody  _ alien  _ that could magically communicate through thoughts and induce such strong emotions with a brush of a fingertip. He wasn’t normal. And she was properly terrified. But he had been so… Scared. Scared that she wouldn’t talk to him, scared that she’d never want to have anything to do with him, scared that she would walk away without a look back.  He had been just as terrified as she was, and that was enough to believe he meant her no harm. Or so she hoped.

 

Once she was satisfied with the overall appearance of her tiny flat, the bin bag shoved under the sink and a bit of perfume spread around to hide the lingering smell of cold tobacco, she decided it would be prudent to shower and change into better clothes - after all, he was wearing a suit, maybe he expected her to be chic, or at the very not to be dressed like a scarecrow. She picked up the only dress she owned in her wardrobe, not really fond of the idea of putting something that brought back such bad memories, but it was either that or faded jeans and shoddy tee-shirts. She made a quick job of showering, dressing up and brushing her hair into a loose bun, slipped her feet into her pair of black polished heels, and went to sit at her desk. 

 

She allowed herself a long moment to gather her thoughts and keep her fury of feelings in check, staring through the window into the darkening sky. Winter nights had the bad habit of falling fast over this city, and though it wasn’t very late, she could already spot a few stars dotting the canvas of navy blue turning black. Usually, she would look at that kind of clear night sky for hours, mapping the constellations she knew of - basically, all of them, getting lost in inner monologues about how sad and complicated her life was, blowing cigarette smoke into the soft breeze and trying to picture shapes and figures along the trails of white vapours. But that night was so far away from being  _ usual _ . So, instead of looking at the sky, she looked at the brightly glowing circles on her forearm. She could have sworn something had changed - a circle had moved, or another one had appeared, she wasn’t sure - but then again, she had always done her very best to avoid looking at it, so it might just have been a trick of the mind. For the first time, she really looked at it, traced the different shapes with her fingertips, watched the light reflect on her pale skin. And for the first time, she saw the beauty and the magic of it. Such a detailed and perfectly outlined design, such an elegant and regular pattern, such a vivid and soothing white light couldn’t be the fruit of a curse. There was only one way she could be certain.

 

She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, bit the inside of her cheek, and she thought.  _ Doctor? _

 

He had been waiting for far too long, sprawled over one of the jumpseat, his foot repeatedly tapping against the grating - the only thing that pointed to his impatience and anxiousness. More than once, she had thought about him, more than once, he had been ready to burst through the doors and run to her, more than once, he had been dejected when he had realized she had just been  _ thinking _ , and not calling. But this was it. The call. That one shy, hesitant  _ Doctor  _ that reached his mind just as he was about to fall into a precipice of doubt and worry. His hearts leapt against his ribcage and he jumped to his feet, running a feverish through his wild mane as he tried to think of the best course of action. Try not to faint under the wave of excitement, make sure his clothes were properly straightened, pick up to the last gift he’d managed to gather, run to her. Yes, that was good. Good plan.

 

He forced his body to remain still for a few seconds, focusing on the steady blood flow in his veins and the regular breaths coming out of his nose, closing his eyes to steer all of his negative emotions into the little trap of his brain to lock them away. He tugged on his sleeves, readjusted the knot of his tie that had gone a bit loose, smoothed the creases on the front of his jackets with broad, hard swipes of his hands, made sure his shoelaces were tied. He piled up the small mountain of gift he’d bought her against his chest - and he thought it quite a feat to balance such a variety of boxes and paper-wrapped presents without anything toppling over. And there came the only flaw in his plan. No way he could run without sowing any of his gifts in his wake. He cursed under his breath when she called again, her voice growing uncertain, and he prayed to the deities their telepathic connection had grown strong enough for her to hear him back.  _ I’m coming, I’m here, I’m coming _ .

 

He thanked the Tardis under his breath for opening the door and took on step outside, on the wet concrete pavement he rather disliked - too hard, too dark, too austere, he’d never understand the human penchant for such hideous things and their attraction to black and grey. He flared his nostrils and inhaled deeply to pick up the trail of her scent, a safer way to get to her than only relying on the tendrils of her mind, and a shiver of delight coursed down his spine when he smelled her delicate perfume and tasted her heady flavour on his tongue. He followed it to a large double door at the foot of a tall building, trying hard not to get drunk on her scent and high on her contagious excitement that assaulted him, even from far away. Thankfully, someone had left it open, and he quickly went to the flight of stairs, praising his long legs that allowed him to swallow three steps at a time. The closer he got, the stronger did her smell, and his heartbeat grew exponentially faster when he finally walked into her corridor. The trail led him to another door, and he had to rein his tears of joy in at the sudden overwhelming presence that shone from behind it like a powerful aura that warmed his skin and soothed his mind. Unable to use his hands, he gave the door a few kicks and waited.

 

He heard the door open a second later, but his sight was somewhat impaired by the stack of presents he was holding. He leaned his head to the right to peek behind the tower of gifts, and his face split into a bright smile when her beautiful face greeted him for the second time that day. Head cocked to the side, blond waves gracefully falling over her bare shoulders, body tightly wrapped into a dress, a shy grin tugging at her lips, he didn’t think she could look more dazzling even if she tried.

  
  


“Hello again,” he managed to say without choking on his utter admiration. “May I come in?”

  
  


* * *

 


	10. Our Song

* * *

 

 

“Hello again,” he managed to say without choking on his utter admiration. “May I come in?”

  
  


Once she managed to overcome her bewilderment at the mountain of packages he was precariously balancing against his chest, she simply nodded and took a step to the side to open the way. He hurried towards the bed and dropped everything at once with a puff of relief as she closed the door behind him. She watched him, running his hand through the wild spikes of brown hair crowning his head, and that movement made his sleeve slide down a little and reveal his mark, pulsing along a rhythm she believed matched his heartbeat. She looked down at her mark to examine its current state, and she had to swallow a shallow gasp when she noticed his rhythm actually matched the soft pulse of her own. And she also realized that she hadn’t been mistaken about the circles moving under her skin when she noticed the bigger one slowly gyrating, and all the others circle it like satellites following the gravitational pull of a planet.

 

She jumped slightly when his feet appeared in her field of vision, and she lifted her eyes to see him standing right before her with that same sheepish smile - a ridiculously cute smile that would have made her laugh if it wasn’t for the way it made her heart leap in her chest. She had never really dared to appreciate the beauty of a man, too scared about the consequences, too distracted to really think about it, often too sad to enjoy such futile fantasies. But now that she was beyond such preoccupations, she shamelessly let her eyes roam over his odd features, from his obviously slanted nose to the smallest crinkle at the corner of his eyes, and she decided that, though it was a kind of unconventional handsome, she loved it. A shiver ran through her at the thought that this beautiful man could very well be hers, she found it hard to resist the urge she suddenly felt to touch his face, his hair, hug him close and kiss his lips - irrational desires that weren’t born in her brain but in her heart.

  
  


“Are you alright?” he softly asked, and she saw the happiness in his eyes replaced by a flicker of worry.

“Yeah, sorry,” she shrugged, thinking it wise to take a step back in a vain attempt to escape his powerful aura. “It’s just… I don’t know where to start. This is all… There’s so much I don’t understand.”

“Ah,” he hummed with a gentle smile, as if had expected such a reaction. “How about… We get to know each other a bit better, then?”

  
  


He didn’t wait for her answer and went to rummage through the pile of presents stacked over her bed, mumbling under his breath it might not have been such a great idea to bring so many different gifts in so many different shapes and sizes. He finally found what he was looking for - a thin square he could hold on his open palm, wrapped in a deep blue paper dotted with little stars. He turned towards her, handing her the small gift, and clasped his hands in front of him as he rocked on the balls of his feet.

  
  


“So, hm, yeah, you can open it,” he encouraged with another smile - the way she was staring at him and pinching the side of the gift as if it were a dangerous bomb about to explode made it clear she wasn’t feeling particularly safe. “I think you’re going to like it.”

“What is it?” she asked, turning the small package over in her hands to run a nail under the tape sticking to the shiny paper.

“Why don’t you find out?” he grinned, going to her window to close the curtain, to the the desk to turn off the lamp, so that the only source of light was the bright mark on her forearm. “Don’t worry, I’m not, er, going to do anything… We’re just going to need a bit of dark.”

“Alright,” she breathed out, finally tearing the paper off to discover a simple square made of glass, perfectly transparent and reflecting the glow on her arm.

  
  


She tensed ever so slightly when he walked to her side and his fingers wrapped around hers, but relaxed almost immediately under the softness of his touch, a comforting squeeze  and a brush of his thumb enough to soothe her worries. Still, she didn’t quite understand what he wanted her to do, in the dark, with a glass square that didn’t to be much different from the glass of her windows, and she looked up to his eyes in confusion.

  
  


“Are you willing to trust me, Rose?” he asked - and somehow she knew that this question wasn’t just about the gift, but about everything that was about to happen.

“I trust you, Doctor,” she murmured, squeezing his fingers back.

  
  


She wasn’t even surprised when she spoke those words, not even scared that they had come to her naturally, because deep inside she knew she believed them. This Doctor had the power to make her feel safe, to calm her nerves and appease the storm of negativity that had been brewing in her soul for far too long, just with the sound of his voice and his reassuring presence. Trust was something she hadn’t felt for a long time - she had never even really trusted herself, but that had changed from the moment he’d greeted her with a simple, banal  _ hello _ . He was like her, he had the mark. Knowing she wasn’t entirely crazy had done miracles to her confidence, knowing she wasn’t alone had dispersed the swarming core of her doubts, knowing she hadn’t dreamt all those ludicrous thoughts and experiences had brought about a much deserved respite. All thanks to him. He was worth her trust, and then some.

 

She answered his smile with one of her own, and watched his long finger press on one corner of the square. A soft gasped escaped her lips parted in awe when her tiny flat was suddenly flooded by a soft white light coming from the hundreds of little spheres that appeared out of thin air. They were surrounded by them, tiny balls lazily floating around them like miniscule light bulbs hanging on quivering threads. She observed the luminous canvas for a long minute, unaware that he was watching her with an unadulterated look of affection and fondness, and she finally understood what it was. She had studied the galaxies for so long she was almost ashamed it had taken her so long to spot the Milky Way and all its stars, but she was sure that was the Solar System, just under her nose. She reached out for one of the brightest spheres, her fingertips hovering over its surface without touching it, lest the magic of this beautiful piece of art would fade away.

  
  


“That’s the Sun?” she quietly asked, searching for the answer in his eyes - the proud smile he offered probably meant she was right.

“Yep,” he confirmed with an enthusiastic nod. “And that’s Earth. Now... “

  
  


He let her fingers go to spread his arms wide, disturbing the lethargic course of the spheres, then clapped his hands together. All the lights twirled and spun around the room, so fast only streaks of white were visible for a few seconds, like hurried and imprecise paint strokes, until they came to a full stop. He pointed to two other bulbs that were about the same size of the Sun, then to a ball that was much more orange in color and much smaller that the stars it orbited.

  
  


“These are Nola and Nuva,” he explained, his hand coming under hers as she cradled the stars in the crook of her palm. “Twin suns. And this is Gallifrey.”

“Gallifrey?” she repeated, that name sparking a flame of odd familiarity, though she wouldn’t have been able to say why.

“My planet,” he admitted in a soft breath, pinching the vermillion ball between his fingers. “That’s where I come from. I’m a Time Lord, and I’ve travelled the whole universe to get to you, Rose Tyler.”

  
  


He anxiously waited for her reaction, but she didn’t seem particularly keen on sharing her thoughts on the fact that he was an alien from a planet so distant it wouldn’t appear on human maps before a few million of years. Oh, he could have picked up the signals of her mind with his own, if only that wouldn’t have been terribly rude and even punished by death on a few planets. Instead, he rolled an arm around her shoulders and let her lean against his chest, relieved to see she wasn’t running away, thrilled to feel her fingers squeeze his slightly harder. She looked fascinated by that tiny ball of light, observing it under every angle even though its surface was plain and regular - after all, this was just map, if she really wanted to see Gallifrey he supposed he could make a small jump in time to show it to her. He  _ was  _ fascinated by that little woman, by her beautiful face that glowed with the projection of his galaxy, by her soft smile that tugged at her full lips. He was convinced that, even if she hadn’t been his soulmate, he would have thought her just as perfectly beautiful as she was in that moment.

 

Her smile suddenly disappeared from her face, her teeth digging into her lower lip just as a hot blush reddened her cheeks, and she gave him a gentle shove of her shoulder. He might have thought that last thought just a bit too hard, he realized. He offered an embarrassed shrug, thinking he must have been just a bit too forward, but then she giggled and brought her hands to grasp his tie.

  
  


“You’re not that bad yourself,” she winked - and it was his moment to blush and babble unconvincing denials that had her laugh even more openly. “For an alien, I mean.”

“I’ll have you know, you’re as alien to me as I am to you,” he pointed out with a falsely offended pout.

“We don’t look much different,” she smiled, brushing the pad of her thumb over his lip to erase his moue. “What proof do you have, ‘part from the fact that you’re a bit weird?”

“I’m not weird, you are,” he countered as he took both her hands and splayed them over his chest. “Honestly, who can survive on one heart, it makes no sense.”

“What do you… Oh.”

  
  


Her eyes widened when she felt the calm, regular heartbeat under all those layers of clothing, pulsing almost imperceptibly against her left palm, as it should, but also against her right. A twin beat that echoed in perfect synchronicity at first, but then the right one started to beat much faster, much harder, and her hand flew back as if it could have burnt her skin and break her bones. He tutted quietly and grabbed her hand, bringing it back over his right heart with a gentle look of reassurance. He cocked his head to the side and raised his eyebrows, seemingly waiting for her to notice something, but apart from the wild pulsations and his chest throbbing under her fingers, she couldn’t feel anything. Until she realized his heartbeat was exactly the same as hers. Same rhythm, same strength, same stuttering. He beamed when he took notice of her sudden epiphany and the amazement that made her eyes water and her mouth gape.

  
  


“See, my left heart is mine,” he whispered - the very same heart melted at about the same time her first tear rolled down her cheek. “My right heart is yours. It’s been yours for four hundred years, Rose. From the moment I first met you.”

“The first time… When you sang to me?” she asked between two silent sobs, her memories flying back to the night of her first birthday.

  
  


He didn’t answer. Instead, he reached around his neck to unfasten the pendant he had never taken off until now, pulled it out from under his shirt. He flicked the tiny locket open with his thumb, picked up the small piece of parchment that was carefully folded and tucked inside, spread it out in his palm to show it to her. She looked at the yellowish paper and brushed a fingertip over the faded black ink that drew a circle filled with parallel lines, half circles, tiny dots. The same kind of circle ornating the parchment she kept locked under the frame in her desk, the same kind of circle that were etched under her skin. But somehow, she knew that one was different. More important. More meaningful. He put it back in its locket with slow and conscientious movements, locked it again and slipped the pendant around her neck, a heartwarming smile spread over his gleeful features. She expected the golden piece of jewelry to feel cold against her skin, but she felt the opposite - a soft touch, a warmth that almost seeped through her skin and reached deep down inside her chest to nestle next to her heart. She couldn’t know if it was just a consequence of the torrent of emotions rushing through her veins, or if it was just some kind of magical alien object, but the way he wrapped his arms around her waist and drew her into a tight hug made it hard to care.

 

She felt his lips pressed against her temple and his fingers sketch tight little circles in the small of her back, and she willingly leaned into his touch, into his arms, burying her face against his shoulders so he wouldn’t see the tears that kept flowing. For the first time in her life, she felt like she truly belonged. And then, he started to sing. Not into her ear, but in her head. Just like on the night of her tenth birthday, the lyrics felt magnificently harmonious, powerful notes and syllables blurring into a soft-paced melody, and before she knew it, she was mumbling those lyrics against his jacket, as much as the sobs shaking her shoulders would allow her to. Much like that first time, she didn’t understand the words, didn’t even understand how those strings of tunes could make any sense, but unlike that first time, she understood all the wonderful feelings that came with it, and she understood there was nothing to be afraid of. Delightful comfort, raw affection, noble devotion. Pure love.

 

He started to rock her, gently, following the slow rhythm of the song his mind was roaring, and brought a hand to the nape of her neck to press his lips just a tad harder against her forehead.

  
  


“I’m the Doctor,” he whispered against her skin, the words accompanying the mellow tempo he knew was beating in her head. “Soulmate, I love you. I’m the Doctor, and I love you.”

  
  


His last word struck when the last note of the song faded out, and he kept her tight against him for a long time, waiting for her tears to dwindle down and her sobs to die - which allowed him to rein his own tears away regulate his heavy breath that came after his respiratory bypass kicked in. He hadn’t known he would speak that truth so soon because he was terrified she wouldn’t understand, he hadn’t thought saying those words would sweep away all the barriers he had meticulously constructed over the centuries faster than a snap of a finger. But most of all, he hadn’t believed she would bury him under the heavy waves of love that coursed through her and flowed from her mind, he hadn’t even dreamt that she would so readily accept his feelings,  _ her  _ feelings, that she would be so open about them and even thank him under her breath.

 

She finally took the tiniest of steps back and clasped both her hands on each side of his face, her sobs quickly turning to a laugh, her thumbs tracing the swell of his cheekbones.

  
  


“It’s you,” she giggled, seemingly carried away on a sudden surge of glee. “It’s you, you’re the one I love. It’s you.”

“Only if you want me to be, Rose Tyler,” he smiled, his inability to cope with her feelings making renewed tears spring from the corner of his eyes. “I’ve always been yours. I’ll be yours forever.”

“I’ve always been yours, too,” she said softly, wiping his tears away with her knuckles. “We’ve been together for so long already, it’s like… I know you, Doctor. I need you. I love you. I know I do, I can’t for the life of me explain how or why, but I know I do. I love you.”

  
  


He was suddenly thankful his right heart was beating for her, because his left one simply stopped working for a few seconds at the sound of those three, gorgeous words he had longed to hear for more than four centuries, dripping into his ears like the sweetest of honey, overflooding his brain with liquid exhilaration that left him drunk on her beautiful truth. He was caught mid-breath when she craned her neck, just a little, cupped his jaw tighter, just a little, smiled at him, just a little. His hands acted on their own, one slipping behind her neck, the other settling high on her hip, and his head bowed under the weakness that hit him unaware, his bones turning to jelly and his muscles deflating all at once. Their lips met halfway, a hesitant brush that was just enough for their marks to scorch, to shine so bright it swallowed to the last little sphere or light still floating in the darkness around them. Their first kiss. It was beautifully uncoordinated, mouths going astray only to find each other again, charmingly innocent, lips not daring to press too hard, to open too much, to close too fast, wonderfully sweet, the strawberry taste of her gloss mingling with his naturally sugary skin. It was perfect in its imperfection, because it was them.

 

When they parted, they still were close enough to feel their hot breaths mingling and rolling down their chins, close enough for the tip of their noses to bump, close enough for their foreheads to stick together and their emotions to freely travel between their elated minds. When their eyes opened, they realized they were in the dark. The stars were gone, their soulmarks had stopped shining. The beacons guiding their steps through the universe had no purpose any longer. They had finally found each other.

 

* * *

 


	11. Forgiveness

* * *

 

 

“Try this one,” he beamed at her, offering something much alike to a pearl of milk chocolate between his fingers.

  
  


She could only giggle at his almost childish enthusiasm and bowed her head to wrap her lips around the treat, a glint in her eyes as she peered through her eyelashes to watch his reaction - which happened to be a wild blush inflaming his cheeks and an embarrassed chuckle.

 

They were sitting on her bed, surrounded by torn gift paper and presents he had been thrilled to give her, both cross-legged, face to face, holding hands whenever given the chance and knees bumping into each other at any given opportunity. He had assured her most of these presents were worthless trinkets he had believed and hoped she would like, but to her, each of these precious gifts were priceless relics. The four-dimensional map of the universe had been the first, and she thought just this one would have been more than enough - what more could the astronomy lover that she was ask for but a faithful, up-to-scale planetarium she could project into her own flat? The technology behind that small square of glass, the secrets it held, the infinite potential she saw in such a tiny item… They were all beyond anything she could have imagined, and though it was merely a gadget to him, she already valued it even more than her cherished _ Encyclopedia of the Stars _ .

 

He also had given her a flower she had never seen before, either in gardens or in books, large petals of a white colour that diluted to a pale pink in the middle, a turquoise stem from which sharp-edged leaves sprouted. It looked beautiful - and then, he had told him the only flower that bore the same characteristic on Earth was the  _ Rosae Centifolia _ . According to him, the best-looking and the best-smelling rose the planet would ever be blessed with. It was just a flower, sealed into a glass dome engraved with the same kind of symbols etched her skin because, he had warned, the Gallifreyan species of the flower oozed a venom so potent she would suffer a horrible death at a shallow inhale of its perfume. So, quite unable to disappoint him, she had thanked him with a smile and set the dome on her desk, making the inner promise to hide it somewhere it would never be found.

 

Then, he had handed her a gift so heavy she had almost lost her grip on it, thick, large and square. She had ripped the bright red paper dotted with shiny silver stars and gasped at the sight. An enormous book that counted thousands and thousands of thin pages she had feared would tear and melt under her fingers. Millions of lines written in an alphabet she couldn’t decipher, but drawings of planets and figures of galaxies she recognized at a glance - at least, he seemed to have understood she was into anything space-related. He had told her this book was an inexhaustible well of knowledge about astronomical physics, the very last edition he had picked up on a planet, far away in a lost corner of the universe, merely decades before everything would collapse and explode into infinite particles of nothing. He had assured her she would be able to read it all once she would have visited his ship - why, she didn’t know, but what she knew even less was if she would ever be able to go through the first hundred pages before she died. It didn’t really matter. She was certain the book was a masterpiece, just judging by its cover. A thick, brown leather, a material she would have guessed didn’t necessarily prevail in such a distant future, words from the same alphabet engraved on its slice, silver paint sprayed on the smooth surface of its edges. And on the front, a large picture behind a thin layer that glowed under the light, a tri-dimensional view of a star system. It was so accurate and realistic, with its dark depth, its moving planets and orbiting satellites, she had made him laugh heartily when her nose had crushed against it - it appeared she had been so drawn to that scenery she had wanted to dive into it head first. 

 

He had erased her frown of embarrassment with a kiss on her forehead and a brush of the back of his hand across her cheeks, pretending he had done the same more than once - a lie she was more than happy to believe.

 

One of his last gift was just as wonderful and magical as the others, but the fact that it was a gift he shared with her made it all the more extraordinary. Although it was the only item that looked like something she could have found on Earth, probably on some rubbish market that sold fake antiques, it was an item that held so much significance for the both of them, that was so personal and intimate she doubted he could have ever come up with something more heartwarming and precious. It was a simple set of silver fob watches - she couldn’t remember the exact name of the metal they were made of - and each was engraved with a symbol that translated into their names. Hers had the complex maze of lines and circles that meant  _ Doctor _ , his had a simpler glyph, but just as impossible to read for her, that bore the meaning of  _ Hulis _ , given there was no similar words in his language. They could have been watches, just watches, and she would have been delighted to own such a pretty item. But they were more than that. 

 

She had clicked it open and discovered not a simple, twenty-four hour dial with two rudimentary hands, but a dial that was split into several parts, the numbers ranging from zero to several hundreds, a dozen hands softly ticking on its surface.

  
  


“There’s an Yvan diamond inside that watch,” he had explained to her, reverently slipping the silver chain around her neck. “Now that I’ve found you, I don’t want to lose you. The diamond inside yours is linked to my soul, and the one inside mine is linked to yours. This watch doesn’t really gives you the time. It gives the exact when and where I am whenever you look at it. See, those numbers here, they’re our current coordinates, and those hands point to the time it is here, now, in London. I’ll teach you how to read it, and once you’ve learnt… You’ll always know where to find me. Oh, and you can call me, too. Just hold it, like that, close to your heart so it can pick up your heartbeat. Go on, try it.”

  
  


And so she had. She had pressed the cold watch against her skin, just over the swell of her left breast, and her eyes had widened in awe when she had seen the sudden golden glow that had flared from the symbol etched into the shiny metal of his watch and heard the quiet buzz filtering through from the inside, like hundreds of bees droning in the distance.

  
  


“See?” he had smiled, proud to see her obvious amazement. “The colour and the heat can change, too. Depends on the… Urgency of the situation. Anytime, anywhere you need me, for whatever reason, find me, Rose. I’ll always come to you.”

“What if I never want to leave you again?” she had answered - and she had winced when the golden gow turned into a deep orange, the buzz turned into a slow rattle, treacherous proof of the quickening of her heartbeat.

“I never want to leave you either, my precious Rose,” he had smiled - and had that been a tear in the corner of his eye? “Better safe than sorry. We may never have to use it, but I’d feel better if you wore it.”

“Of course I will, Doctor,” she had reassured him, gently cupping his face to sow a few kisses on his jaw. “Thank you. I’m sorry I can’t find any other words, but…”

“None of that,” he had shaken his head before bringing her hands close to his chest. “You’re my soulmate, Rose Tyler. I would do anything for you. Anything. I swore to love you, protect you and cherish you more than four hundred years ago, and I intend to abide by my pledge. You don’t have to thank me for something that makes  _ me  _ happy. You can thank me when you’ll send me away because you’re bored with me and I’ll accept your decision without a single complaint. Until then… Please, open that one.”

  
  


Of course, she had wanted to protest, that she highly doubted she’d ever want to send such a beautiful, perfect man away, but he had cut through her objection waving another gift under her nose with a goofy smile - the gift she was currently picking off his fingers with her teeth. 

 

She released his fingertips with a wet pop and let the sweet treat roll on her tongue, expecting something close to the taste of the chocolate she knew so well for indulging in way too many bars way too often. Instead, her mouth was instantly filled with an awkward mix of clementine, strawberry, coffee and a few others she couldn’t quite make out, a perfect balance between the different flavours. A just as awkward smell reached her nose, the sweet fragrance of freshly baked cookies melding into less glamorous vapours of gasoline and greasy chips. She should have been worried by the gasoline bit of that rainbow of perceptions assailing her senses, but part of her knew he wouldn’t have tried to poison her - at least not on purpose. And she had to admit, this had to be the best sweet she had ever enjoyed in her whole life.

 

He was wiggling impatiently on the edge of the mattress, head cocked to the side with the pink tip of his tongue peeking between his neat row of little teeth, waiting for her reaction. When he decided she was taking far too long to offer an opinion, he tossed a piece of candy into the air and caught it into his open mouth, before ostentatiously chewing on the treat.

  
  


“Tell me you don’t like it, I won’t believe you,” he teased with a grin, picking another sweet from the bag.

“What is it?” she asked, running her tongue on the roof of her mouth to chase any remnant of the delicious candy.

“Jhin Pops,” he winked, pressing another tiny ball against her lips until she accepted his offering. “I had to queue for two days to get them, the whole galaxy is after these. They’re made by an alchemist on Kovnot. Or will, given that this is the twenty-first century of your era. Unfortunately, his shop only stayed open for three weeks, it was raided by space pirates and his recipe was stolen. Glory comes with a price, I suppose. Fortunately, I have a Tardis. So, Jhin Pops. They taste different to everyone because their molecules feed on what the person likes the most. What do you think?”

“I think all of this is a wonderful dream and I never want to wake up again,” she shrugged, half-joking, half-serious. “Look at you, Doctor, talking about travelling through time and space, visiting planets and buying candies light-years away in the future. I woke up this morning almost wanting to die because of that mark, and suddenly…  _ Poof _ , an alien comes around, and he brings me all these gifts and so much love I feel like nothing can go wrong anymore. It all feels… Surreal.”

  
  


The light, joyful atmosphere they had basked into for almost two hours popped faster than a balloon poked with a sharp needle, and the abrupt shift left them both silent, for so long a moment he finally understood the relativity of time - to him, it felt like a torturous eternity. His hearts galloped in his chest, ploughing his ribcage with so much force it felt as if they wanted to break free. A tangy, bitter taste rose in his throat and it had nothing to do with the candies. He could only watch as she ran the pad of her thumb across the scars on her forearm he hadn’t noticed, could only observe the tears pearling in the corner of her eyes, rolling down her nose when they grew too heavy, could only take in the way her shoulders slightly slumped forward when he didn’t move. He had almost killed his soulmate. That was the only thing he understood from the strings of otherwise meaningless words she spoke. He thought he had gone through pain when he had landed in that garden and felt her darkest emotions - her fear, her anger, her guilt, her sorrow, her hurt. The pain that sliced through his soul in that moment was beyond anything he had thought himself able to withstand. He had almost killed his soulmate.

 

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

  
  


“Please, Doctor,” she murmured, unable to look into his eyes, too scared to find out it was actually a dream, too terrified to find out she was alone. “Please, tell me this is real. Please, tell me you’re real. I need you.”

  
  


She reached for the fob watch cushioned against her sternum with trembling fingers and pressed it down, hard, just above her heart, whispering a heart-wrenching litany of prayers she hoped would be enough.

 

His own watch burnt in his pocket, a deafening whizz piercing his eardrums and a blinding red glow had him blink his painful tears away. She needed him. He couldn’t fathom why she did, couldn’t understand the reasons behind her desire for her worst nightmare to be real, couldn’t decipher the logic behind her craving for a person that could have been her death. But she needed him. And he had made a promise. 

 

He rose from the mattress in silence, careful not to trip over the chucks he had haphazardly thrown on her carpet, and sat back down behind her, tucking her body between his legs, cradling her trembling frame against his chest, his hands finding hers to twine their fingers together. A sketch of a sad smile crossed his features when she willingly leant back against him, an audible sigh of relief flying past her lips. He nuzzled the side of her slender neck with the tip of his nose, trying hard not to get drunk on a scent so perfect even the Jhin Pops would never be able to reproduce, and pressed a lingering kiss on her smooth skin.

  
  


“Unfortunately, I am very real,” he whispered, the way he brought her closer to his chest a stark contrast with the hateful storm raging in the pit of his stomach. “I am so sorry, my Rose. I am so very sorry for everything I put you through.”

“Doctor?” she asked softly, shifting into his arms so she could look at his oh-so real face - and he felt the worry and the frown in that simple word she uttered.

“I’m sorry,” he broke into a sob, all the guilt and the apologies he had wanted to share with her from the moment he had met her flowing through uncontrollable cries that shook his shoulders and made his chest heave. “I’m so sorry, my Rose, I’m so sorry. Your mark, it… It reacted to me, to my feelings and… All those times I thought about you, dreamt about you, let my hearts love you, you… You suffered. You’ve suffered so much because of me, my Rose. I swear I didn’t know I’d cause you so much pain, I swear I didn’t know I was hurting you. I swear to the Gods I never meant for you to hurt, I swear. I’m so sorry.”

  
  


An agony and an immense sorrow she was sure weren’t hers flooded her veins, and the tears she felt splashing on her shoulder coaxed her own. Gently, very gently, she squeezed his trembling hands and twisted between his legs so she could face him. Ingrained to the last cute crinkle at the corner of his eyes, painted over the sharp lines of his features, she saw the same kind of pain she knew her face had borne so often she believed the wrinkle between her eyebrows would never fade. She didn’t understand why he was feeling like this, and she couldn’t understand why he wanted to apologize for something she was certain he had had no control over, but she understood the raw despair and crude misery. She understood this beautiful alien out of a fairytale needed her, maybe just as much as she needed him.

 

He was so tall she had to raise on her knees a little, and the few seconds it took her to do it offered him a window large enough to try and draw back from a contact he wasn’t worthy of. Just to try. She hurried to draw him into a tight hug, an arm slipping under his armpit, the other rolling around his neck, and she cradled the side of his face against her chest. At first, he was tensed as a bowstring ready to shoot its arrow, so rigid even his powerful sobs stopped at once. She nestled her cheek against the wild spikes that had lost just a bit of their zeal and lightly scratched her nails over the back of his head, tracing the small dip on the surface of his skull - his face wasn’t the only wonky thing about his head, she found out.

  
  


“I don’t want you to be sorry for loving me too much, Doctor,” she said in a quiet murmur, rocking him in the shelter of her arms. “If anything… I need you to forgive me.”

“Forgive you?” he breathed out against her skin - and she felt his shoulders relax almost imperceptibly. “Rose, did you hear what I said?”

“I heard you, my Doctor,” she smiled against his hair, answering the brush of his thumb over the back of her hand. “You’ve loved my for all those years, and I betrayed you. I refused to see you. I refused to feel you. Part of me wanted to believe in you so much, but my fears and my cowardice have always been stronger. I didn’t want to trust you, because I was scared you’d never come for me.”

“I’ll always come for you, Rose, always,” he reassured her, his face leaving the warmth of her chest to look into her eyes - it seemed his need to comfort her would always supercede any other feeling. “And you never betrayed me. I can assure you, you never betrayed me, my Rose, because if you did, I wouldn’t be here.  _ I _ betrayed you when I refused to feel your pain.  _ I _ betrayed you with my selfish joy when you were hurting.  _ You  _ need to forgive me.”

  
  


She gaped at the way he crossed his arms over his chest and dared her to refuse with a furrowed brow and a pout, the picture of his face so puerile and absurd she wondered if he was striking such a ridiculous pose on purpose, just to accompany the ridiculousness of his words. Well against her will, she broke into a giggle and pulled on his tie in reprisal, his lovely pout only fueling her desire to laugh at their silly antics.

  
  


‘“Listen to us, Doctor,” she smiled, following the line of his tie with her fingertips, up to the column of his throat. “Are were really arguing about who should apologize when we’ve just found each other?”

“I think so,” he shrugged with an embarrassed chuckle, the ludicrous nature of the situation finally dawning on him. “But I intend to win the argument. I meant it, Rose. I  _ am  _ sorry.”

“Okay,” she nodded, sitting back down on her heels. “Okay, just because I want to leave this whole,  _ preposterous  _ banter behind us so we can move on and forget about who did what wrong, I forgive you.”

“Okay,” he parotted with a grin a he wiped the remnants of his tears still coating his cheeks. “Just because you cheeky stubborn woman won’t let me get away with it, I forgive you.”

“Good.”

“Good. Now, I believe it is customary on Earth to kiss after that kind of conversation, but I trust you to tell me if I’m mistaken.”

  
  


He wanted the words to be audacious and confident, but the intended effect was somewhat counterbalanced by his fingers fiddling with the hem of his suit jacket and his shy smile. Still, he welcomed her into her arms when she slumped forward to crash against his chest and her lips found his in a hard kiss, so different from their first, but just as good and overwhelming. He fell back against the small heap of pillows she had gathered at the foot of her bed, and he accompanied her slow descent over him with his hands splayed of her hips. Each brush of lips, caress of tongues and mingled breath took them further away from their worries and their fears until, at last, only the love flooding the connection between their souls remained. He was dying to share his mind with hers, to dive into the depth of her consciousness, to show her how pure and violent his feelings were for her, and he almost did. But he thought they had gone through enough nerve-wracking emotions for one night, so he simply brushed the edge of her soul with his, a fleeting touch, just enough to succumb to the wave of relief that came with the unconditional trust and love glowing from her beautiful mind.  They were both forgiven, if forgiveness had ever needed to be earned.

 

She suddenly broke the kiss and buried her face in the crook of his neck to try and stifle a yawn, but he noticed. He chuckled at the apology she mumbled against his skin and tucked a strand of her blond hair behind her ear.

  
  


“I think we should call it a night, shouldn’t we?” he offered as he gathered her body and helped her up.

“Can you stay?” she asked softly, fighting another yawn she felt growing in the pit of her lungs. “I know my bed is small but… I don’t want you to go.”

“I’ll stay,” he nodded - and he made sure not to show her he wanted to stay just as much as she did, maybe more.

“‘Kay, I’ll just get ready. You can, hm, get comfortable. I won’t be long.”

  
  


She gave his cheek a quick peck and he watched as she disappeared into the tiny bathroom and locked the door behind her. Rose Tyler. His soulmate. Just behind that door, a few feet away. He blinked his awe and delirious happiness from his wide eyes and let his hearts sing and shout as he stood from the bed to tidy it up. He towered all the gifts into a neat pile on an unoccupied space of her desk, unbuttoned his pinstriped jacket to wrap it securely around the back of her chair, and then he saw it. He swallowed a sob, his long fingers trailing over the glass shielding the yellowed piece of paper. The exam about Earth he had failed so many years ago he thought he had lost. She had kept it. She had found it, and he was rather fond of the idea she had kept this small part of him close at hand for so many years. It was nothing to him, merely a huge failure he had wanted to burn, but he liked to think it was important to her.

  
  


“That was the first time someone told me they loved me,” he heard her say softly from the doorstep of her bathroom. “The first time my mark burnt. The first time I saw you. Why didn’t you come to me then?”

“Because it wasn’t the right time,” he sighed, dejectedly staring at the nacre soulmark on his arm. “Trust me, Rose, I wanted nothing more than to run to you and meet you and tell you I’d be here for you, but it wasn’t the right time. I couldn’t risk losing you, my Rose, and I would have if I had tried to trick fate.”

“That’s okay, Doctor, I just wanted to know,” she simply answered with a smile, hoping she hadn’t sent him down another hole of bitterness. “Are you going to sleep like this?”

  
  


She purposefully looked at his trousers then up at the tie still knotted around his buttoned up collar, then down at her own tartan cotton pants that were twice her size and the large sleeveless tee-shirt stamped with a faded unicorns and a rainbow - and realized she might not have picked the best night attire she owned.

  
  


“I don’t want you to be uncomfortable, is all,” he shrugged, loosening his tie with a pull of his fingers.

“Come on, Doctor, at least drop the tie and trousers, I promise I’m fine with it.”

“Alright.”

  
  


She laughed softly when he carefully slid the unknotted tie through the collar of hif shirt and hang it around a corner of her bed, making sure both sides were perfectly parallel and symmetric - he seemed to be quite the maniac nerd, but it didn’t really surprise her, coming from an alien. His hands went to his belt, but he suddenly stopped, a raging blush swallowing his cheeks within a mere second.

  
  


“I knew I was forgetting something,” he mumbled under his breath, his feverish fingers checking the fly to confirm it was properly zipped up. “I’ll just keep the trousers, if you don’t mind.”

“Are Time Lords unfamiliar with the concept of underwear, Doctor?” she teased as she went to one of her cupboard to fetch a pair of shorts she thought could fit him.

“As a matter of fact, yes, we are,” he acknowledged, catching the garment she threw at him with a sheepish nip at his lip. “Too hot on my planet to bother with that kind of unnecessary clothing. And our geni….”

“Just go change and join me, Doctor,” she interrupted through another yawn that threatened to dislocate her jaw, slipping under the heavy duvet. “We can talk about your alien bits all you want tomorrow, but right now I need to sleep.”

“Right, sorry.”

  
  


She was already almost asleep when he laid by her side, throwing the cover around their bodies and snuggling close to her. His lanky frame fit perfectly behind her, but she wasn’t happy with this position. She needed to feel his heat against her face, she needed to hear his breath, she needed to smell the shallow fragrance of his cologne. She just needed the reassurance that he was really here. She wiggled around to turn into his arms and caught his hand to bring it close to her mouth, planting a soft peck on each of his knuckles that caused a shudder to course though his whole body.

  
  


“You’d better be there when I wake up,” she breathed out before she kissed his lips one last time.

“I’ll be there,” he promised, reaching out to turn off the lamp before he gathered her against his chest. “Sweet dreams, my love.”

  
  


Before she could hear his last words, she was already snoring lightly in the crook of his neck, and it wasn’t long before he joined her, lulled to sleep by the wonderful sound of her quiet breathing.

  
  


* * *

 


	12. Wonderland

* * *

 

 

_ You’re so warm. _

Her nose scrunched up and her eyes closed even tighter to keep the harsh sun rays from seeping through her eyelids. She was used to stretch like a lazy cat when she woke up, but this time, when she tried to arch her back and spread her limbs around, she realized a long arm was wrapped around her waist, effectively pinning her down, and a set of legs was tangled between hers. Her hand was trapped under a warm cheek, a moist breath gathering in the crook of her palm, and she was quite sure that was a trickle of saliva coating her fingers. But she didn’t mind. She even loved it. She snuggled deeper under the cover, against the naked chest covered with a sparse layer of coarse hair - he must have shed his shirt during the night, probably too hot, but at least he had refrained from shedding his shorts. 

 

_ You’re so warm and beautiful. _

This time, she clearly heard his voice in the back of her head, and a fleeting picture of herself in her tight black dress floated behind her closed eyelids for a second, just as a soft snore escaped his lips and his fingers hugged her hipbone tighter. She giggled softly under her breath and pried an eye open to take in his face. His brow was just a little furrowed, his eyes rolling fast and squeezing shut tight every few seconds, his nostrils flaring widely at each of his quiet breath. For a moment, just a moment, she worried that he might have been having a nightmare. Until he rocked his hips against her gently and moaned low in his throat.

 

_ So beautiful… So very… _

She had to swallow a gasp and her whole body went rigid against his, his thoughts filling her mind growing much too lustful and entirely too foreign to know how to react. She hadn’t even thought about this possibility when he’d joined her under the covers, it hadn’t even crossed her mind that such a thing could happen. How could she have, being the innocent virgin that she was, the young, stupid girl who had never been with anyone before him? Oh, she already had indulged in some solitary pleasure. A few times. Once. And she hadn’t liked it. She had tried, but it had appeared she simply was unable to find anything to spark her arousal, and the experience had been disappointing. She had thought about this one boy from her maths class she thought she fancied, but it hadn’t worked. She had thought about this one girl from her piano lessons, thinking all the slurs about her being a lesbian might not have been so far-fetched, but it hadn’t worked. She had thought about him, that one boy with the red curls and the stub nose, and it had worked. Until she’d felt a searing embarrassment course through her, almost as if a judgmental pair of eyes had been watching her. She had never tried again.

 

_ Hot… Soft… So warm…  _

A scorching blush inflamed her cheeks when he groaned again, a filthy sound that teased the skin of her hand still trapped under his cheek, and the power of the fantasies flowing from his mind had her bite her lip to lock her own moan of pleasure into her mouth. And she understood why it had never worked before. She just needed him. She needed her soulmate, with her, close at hand, his body next to her and his mind mingling with her own. Wild pulses of liquid fire shot down her loins, sizzling, sparkling, almost painful, as his teeth scraped her palm, his hips rutting against her again - and despite her shameful chastity she was quite sure what the hardness pressing into the skin of her thigh was. She squeezed her legs together and wiggled away from him, as far as her small bed and the wall it was glued to would allow her too, but it was too late. She was learning just how pleasurable and and overwhelming it was to be aroused by the love of her life, and she was terrified. Aroused, and terrified.

  
  


“Rose,” he breathed out - the softness of his voice stark contrast with how he crooned into her mind, roared his pleasure and shouted his love. “Beautiful Rose. My Hulis.”

  
  


She did her very best not to hear him, dug her face deeper into her pillow and clasped her free hand over her ear, just to mute his voice, but he was so loud into her head and her mind she heard him as clearly as if he were talking into her ears. She wished he would just wake up on his own - she refused to wake him and point to his obvious arousal, lest he’d spontaneously combust in shame - but it seemed he was enjoying his dream way too much to let it go. The voice in her head grew more persistent, more impatient, latching on the thoughts she was trying hard to keep at bay, feeding on her own arousal she was sure he could feel even through the thick fog of sleep. Oh she didn’t blame him, she was even happy to see he seemed to appreciate her physique and her looks, but she simply wasn’t ready. There would come a time when she would happily give in and share intimate moments with him, but that particular morning wasn’t that time.

 

So she tried to fend him off. The more she fought his voice, however, the more painful the headache that was sprouting behind her forehead got, disagreeable flutters turning to excruciating sparks of electricity which made is rutting even more unbearable. 

  
  


“Doctor,” she pleaded softly, nudging his ribs with her elbow. “Doc… Oh, shit, not now.”

  
  


She sniffed deeply and the coppery taste of blood ran down her throat, tinged her tongue, its smell filled her nose. Not caring about whatever feeling he might get waking up in such a compromising situation any longer, she quickly disentangled their legs and yanked her hand from under his cheek, shoving the thick duvet away with a few kicks. Just as she was climbing off the bed to rush to the bathroom, he jerked awake in a sitting position, his grogginess and confusion plastered all over his sleepy features.

  
  


“Rose?” he immediately asked, a mindless reflex making his hand fly to grab her wrist.

“It’s alright, I just…”

  
  


The rest of her sentence was swallowed by a loud cry of pain when his pull, however gentle, had her trip over his chucks still lying on the carpet and she fell head first into the tiny cupboard in which she kept all her school stuff. Her forehead met its edge with a dull thud that made her headache flare to agonizing proportions, and in a desperate attempt not to fall down on the floor, she grabbed a hold on the tower of binders filled to the brim with all her notes about physics and astronomy - which, despite their impressive weight, were no match to the momentum that sent her body crashing down on her carpet, all the binders following in her wake and burying her under three-year worth of lessons. 

 

He was instantly on her side, wrapping an arm around her waist, terrified by all the blood he was seeing he didn’t know was the product of a simple, innocent nosebleed. And that was when the front door burst open with the loud clunk of the lock breaking.

  
  


“What the Hell is happening in here?”

  
  


She gasped loudly at the sight of Mickey who gaped at the scenery for a moment, stopping half-step towards them, as if suspended in a stasis bubble. She looked at the Doctor, huddling her body against his chest, and noticed with a pang in her stomach his tight shorts were doing a poor job at hiding the  _ condition  _ he had just woken up with. And then, she was still half-sprawled on the floor, a bump growing on her forehead, her nose still bleeding profusely, her large tee-shirt sliding down a shoulder and riding almost up the underside of her breast. It took her one second to understand what must have been going through Mickey’s head in that moment. One second too much. 

  
  


“Get your hands off her!” Mickey roared, launching himself at him with way too much speed and anger for him to react.

  
  


Rose tried to hinder his mad chase, tried to grab him by the hem of the jacket, but she was powerless and had to watch Mickey’s fist colliding violently with the side of his face and droplets of blood spurt from the cut that split his lower lip.

  
  


“No, no, Mickey, stop”, Rose begged, scrambling back to her feet as fast as her dizzy head would allow her to, hurrying to stand protectively in front of her soulmate. “Please Mickey, just stop, it’s not what you think, please, leave him alone.”

“Look at you, Rose!” he almost shouted, throwing his arm back, ready to punch his face again. “Look at what he did to you! Dammit, Rose, he was about to… To…”

“No he wasn’t, I swear to God he wasn’t!” she protested vehemently, wiping her dripping nose on her shoulder. “Just a nosebleed, Mickey, you know how often they happen, I promise it’s just a nosebleed, and I tripped over the stupid shoes, he was just trying to help. Please, just stop. Don’t hurt him, please. It’s okay, Micks, I swear, I’m okay.”

  
  


Time seemed to freeze for a whole, torturously long minute, the silence only disturbed by Rose’s heavy sniffs, a vain attempt at keeping most of the blood from flowing down her mouth and chin, by the Doctor’s quiet gulp and the almost imperceptibly sharper breath he took in when his fingers met his bruised skin, by Mickey’s heavy pants and cracking knuckles as he repeatedly drummed his fingers into a fist. She finally pressed her hand against his chest heaving chest, a gentle touch of comfort, and searched his eyes to soothe his anger with a soft look.

  
  


“Please, Mickey,” she murmured again, bringing her other hand up to wrap her fingers around his own, pressing down on them to lower his fist. “It’s alright.”

“Who is he?” Mickey seethed all while offering her a handkerchief he fetched in his pocket. “What’s he doing here?”

“ _ He _ is right here, so you could ask him,” the Doctor huffed, snatching the small white square from the other man’s hand before he carefully tilted her head back and wiped the blood from her face. “I’m the Doctor, and I’m her soulmate, and whatever you were implying is disgusting. I’d never hurt my Rose like that, and, Rassilon forbid, in any other way.”

“The Doctor,” Mickey smirked, purposefully pointing at the golf ball that had grown on her forehead and the bloodstained tissue. “Soulmate?  _ Your _ Rose? You really should slow down on your liquor, mate. Rose, I don’t know where you found him but I want him gone. Now. He’s completely bonkers.  _ Old _ , and bonkers.”

“Oi, I’ve barely hit four hundred and twenty seven!”

“Yeah, and I’ve just turned two thousand. Bloody Hell, what planet do you come from?”

“I’m from the planet Gallifrey,” the Doctor answered with a shrug - irony was a language trick that his own people never used and he was too unfamiliar with the concept to pick it up. “In the Constellation of Kasterborous of the Seven Systems.”

“Well shit, you’ve really thought this through haven’t you?” Mickey pretended to be awed when he was just a pressure cooker about to explode. “An alien, yeah? D’you wanna phone home, perhaps? Or go back to your Millenium Falcon?”

“Time Lords don’t have the primitive means of communication you call phone, and the Millenium Falcon is a myth,” he simply stated, deciding that he didn’t like this human much, despite his everlasting desire to meet more people of that species. “No matter how many laws of physics you break, the rudimentary technology of that ship can’t make it work. It’d either blow up or turn into a radiation soup. I have a Tardis, however, but your stupid ape brain wouldn’t understand how any of it work, so we’ll leave that for another day.”

“Seriously, I don’t know where you…”

“If you guys could stop arguing, please, I’m… I’m...”

  
  


Both men immediately stopped talking at the weak protest that came from an exhausted-looking Rose that was struggling to keep upright on the edge of the bed. The headache, the nosebleed, the throbbing bump on her forehead were all steadily draining her of her energy, the pain radiating through her whole body and hammering in her brain making it too hard to stand one more argument. In vain, she brushed the back of her hand under her nose, a sloppy move that only managed to smear more blood around. The Doctor suddenly came to realize where his own headache was coming from, and he hurried to focus his mind on sending her waves of comfort and pulses of energy that should alleviate her pain, all while keeping his angry guilt at bay. What a lamentable soulmate he made, leaving his precious Rose to suffer just to argue with a stupid human, not even able to feel her pain, not even able to feel her distress. What a rubbish Doctor. What a pitiful  _ being _ .

 

_ You’re not pitiful, my Doctor. _

He was shocked to hear her speak so clearly into his mind, especially in her weakened state, because soulmate or not, she was still human. This shouldn’t have been possible. Emotions and moods, the most basic things that could be telepathically transmitted, she could share with him through their fragile connection. But fully grown thoughts, whole sentences, accurate depictions and clear images, those were supposed to be out of reach for a human brain. And still, she was  _ talking _ .

 

He shoved that thought aside for the moment, unwilling to add acute concern on the already well-built pile of worries packing in his chest, lest she’d feel his anxiety. Instead, he climbed on the bed, slipped behind her and cradled her against his chest. He cushioned his chin in the crook of her shoulder and brought his fingers to pinch her nose, folding his chest over her back to make her bow slightly.

  
  


“Get some ice,” the Doctor ordered rather sternly to Mickey, his voice going up a few octaves when he then murmured soft words of reassurance to his Rose. “It’s alright, love. We just need to stop that nosebleed, eh? It’s okay. Breathe through your mouth. Good, love, you’re doing good.”

“Stop calling her that,” Mickey frowned as he brought an ice pack and pressed it over her nose and cheeks. “Seriously, just stop.”

“It’s okay, Micks, he can,” she sighed, leaning back into the Doctor’s body.

“Can he, now? Remind me, for how long have you two been dating?”

“ _ Dating _ ,” the Doctor snorted as if he found the simply notion of it ridiculous. “Soulmates do not  _ date _ , they just find each other and they love.”

“I don’t remember asking for you opinion,” he glared at him, gently taking her hand in a move of defiance. “Princess? How long?”

“We met yesterday, alright?” she mumbled - she didn’t want to throw herself into a conversation that was bound to be overly complicated and delicate. “But I’ve known him ever since I was ten. He’s… He’s right. He’s my soulmate.”

“Oh, for the love of... Would you two just drop this  _ soulmate  _ horseshit? You high on Disney poppers or what?”

  
  


She shook her head with a weary breath that came out muffled because of the ice pack, and she took the Doctor’s hand to tug on his naked arm, twisting it around so his soulmark was on prominent display. She brought her own arm next to his, juxtaposing her own nacre circles etched under her scars - she was almost relieved to see them there, half-expecting fate to scorn her one more time and erase the one proof she could present Mickey with. His eyebrows knitted together as he observed the matching patterns on their skin and he trailed a finger over one of her circles.

  
  


“So,” he started, the grimace that pulled on his features eloquent enough for Rose to understand he was far from being convinced. “Just because you have the same ridiculous tattoo, you want me to believe you have an alien soulmate? Whoa. Just… Whoa, Rose. I knew you didn’t want me to help, but seriously this is… That’s the only thing you could come up with? I know they say the bigger the lie the easiest to believe, but this…”

  
  


Mickey ran a hand over his face, not bothering to keep his dejected laugh for himself, and he took a deep breath before he dropped her hand and rose from the bed.

  
  


“You know what, you win, Rose,” he shrugged, reaching into his pocket to find two small pieces of plastified paper he carelessly threw on her lap. “I’m done. Can’t compete with a Time Master from Gallibarous whatever, can I? ‘Course not, what’s a twenty year friendship worth, yeah? Hope you two have fun in Wonderland.”

“No, Mickey, wait,” she tried to stop him, her eyes filling up with tears.

  
  


But he still went, kicking a few pages of notes on his way out, and he slammed the door so hard behind him the broken lock clanked down on her floor. 

 

She broke into violent sobs as she shoved the Doctor away with a rough swipe of her arm, scrambling to her feet to try and run after him, but he was quick to grab her by the waist and bring her back down on the bed. For a moment, she struggled into his arms, punched his shoulder all while crying harder, shouting at him to let her go, scratching her nails deep into the skin of his arms. He didn’t let go. He simply drew her into a tight hug and nestled his chin on the top of her hair, rubbing tight circles in the small of her back.

  
  


“He’s gone, love,” he said softly, the pain that oozed from her every pore having bile rise in the back of his throat. “He’s gone, but I’ll bring him back, okay? Don’t cry, love, I promise, I’ll bring him back. I’ll show him.”

“He hates me,” she sobbed in the crook of his neck, her weakened state finally getting the better of her vehement revolt, and she slumped bonelessly against him. “Mickey hates me.”

“Of course he doesn’t,” he reassured her as he rocked her gently. “He just doesn’t understand. But I’ll tell him. I’ll show him. I promise you, my Rose, I’ll bring him back to you. Trust me?”

“Y-Yeah,” she sniffed - fortunately, her nosebleed had finally stopped, unfortunately, her tears had only made her headache worse.

“Alright, love, let’s just take care of you first. Then, I’ll take care of Mister Rickey.”

“ _ Mickey _ ,’ she corrected with a sad smile, picking up the small pieces of paper he had dropped - tickets for an astronomy conference in the brand new planetarium that had opened a few months back on the other side of the city. “Look at that, Doctor. He… God, he’s just… He wanted to take me to a bloody astrophysics show. He  _ abhors  _ astrophysics.”

“I’ll make sure he takes you,” he pledged again, a promise he hoped she could believe in. “I can see he’s important to you, love, that makes him important to me, too. I want you to be happy, Rose, whatever it takes. He loves you and I won’t be responsible for your or his pain.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” she breathed out, planting a grateful kiss on his lips.

  
  


When he didn’t make any comment on her thanks, she realized that meant he didn’t particularly hold her best friend in either of his hearts. It made his promise to bring him back even more meaningful, and she knew everything would be alright. This managed to soothe her turmoil along with her raging headache better than any medication could. This managed to give her one last reassurance, if ever she needed one, that her beautiful soulmate would always be there for her and make sure she was okay. Nothing would ever go wrong in her life again. Everything would be alright.

* * *

 


	13. Anywhere, Anytime

* * *

 

 

He sat on the bed, and he waited. He listened to the sound of the water running in the bathroom, and he waited. He waited, and he cried. Everything had happened so fast. Within the span of eighteen hours, Earth time, it had all happened. Everything he had ever thought about for the past four centuries, every dream, every wish, every hope. Eighteen hours was nothing but a blink of an eye in the life of a Time Lord, and yet, more had happened during those eighteen hours than his hearts and his mind could process. So, he cried. 

 

He remembered the first time he had seen her and the first time she had seen him, like it was a century old memory he was starting to forget. He remembered the first time they had touched, her hand on his cheek, and his stomach churned at the realization he had already forgotten the feeling.  _ Commit to memory _ , they said. But what was memory, even for a Time Lord? A mere faded picture he could use to pretend he remembered. A single, fleeting image lost in a sea of blurred colours, muted sounds and dull smells. He remembered the image but he couldn’t remember the feel of her skin over his. He knew she was soft, warm, gentle. But those were words. Words that would never replace the sensations. 

 

He remembered the first time they had kissed, and he cried, because though he remembered the shape of her lips, he couldn’t remember how they fit against his, or how they tasted, or how they moved. Rassilon, he couldn’t even remember those things when she had kissed him a few, ridiculously short minutes before she had gone to shower.

 

He had waited for so long to live all these first times to their fullest, and he was just left with a lingering bitter taste of  _ nothing _ . So, he cried.

 

Until he realized what it all meant, and he smiled. He  _ couldn’t  _ remember. He wiped the tears coating his cheeks with the tip of his deep burgundy tie, and a shaky chuckle fell from his lips. He couldn’t remember. And that meant, for as long as Rose Tyler would deem him worthy of her love and her presence, he would get to experience all these first times all over again. Each touch, each kiss, each look. They would always be his  _ firsts _ . He would get to live with that perpetual thrill and ecstasy rumbling in the pit of his stomach and thundering in the depth of his mind. His beautiful soulmate was behind that door, and when she would step through the doorframe, he was sure he’d be just as deliriously elated by the sight of her and fall in love with her some more.

 

The sound of the water finally died down. He wiggled anxiously on the side of the bed, hands loosely clasped over his knees, and he was struck by a sudden image that had a gasp fall from his lips. He was thinking about her too much. His mind was reaching out to hers too much. For one second that was one second too much, he saw through her eyes. A direct view from above at her body as she dried herself with a pale yellow towel. Wet skin, a creamy thigh, full breasts topped with dusty pink nipples. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut to chase the image he had stolen from her, his cheeks swallowed by a sea of red embarrassment. It reminded him of the foreign feeling he had woken up with no less than two hours before. Something raw, unusual, but at the same time wonderful. 

 

That was an aspect of Time Lord biology he didn’t know much about. His species rarely conceived children the biological way any longer, preferring to loom them in what they called the Orgue. The Orgue was a giant complex where scientists fooled around with a computer, tinkering with test tubes full of DNA they used to fertilize growth pods. The parents could chose to the smallest details of their dream heir, from the colour of the eyes to a certain range of character traits - and he had always found it bizarre that some of these perfectly designed kids could end up being complete idiots or vile scoundrels. The poorest inhabitants couldn’t afford it, of course, but they weren’t considered part of the society. Not really. At the bottom of the hierarchy, outsiders barely good enough to take care of the crops and keep the Citadel clean. He was one of them. An odd one out, born in a barn next to his father’s cultures of Khunn sweetcorn, from a mother who met her end two years later. If his father hadn’t died of grief in the few months following his wife’s tragic after, he might never have become a Time Lord. He would never have been sent to this austere institution and would have ended up picking up his father’s work.

 

But here he was, Time Lord, in a tiny human habitation, with that feeling he didn’t fully understand. Because Time Lords never talked about it, didn’t even deem worthy to write about it in biology manuals, he didn’t know how to feel about it. Sex as a practical thing was barely mentioned, sex as a recreational thing even less - such a desire was considered as base, primal, repugnant by society. He had never even felt it before. He knew about human sex habits, of course, given that he had spent most of his life studying Earth and its inhabitants, but to him it was merely a crude and primitive way to conceive babies. He believed he had come across something called  _ pornography  _ in sociology books, but the notion of sex as pleasure had been too obscure for him and he hadn’t dug any further. Maybe he should have, because it definitely wasn’t the idea of _ sex as a practical thing _ with his soulmate that had made him feel this way.

 

They hadn’t talked about it, and he thought she had been just as embarrassed as him. It was possible she had never engaged in sexual intercourse before, and somehow that made him feel better. First, because that would mean they would both be shy and inexperienced, so he wouldn’t have to make a fool of himself and admit he had close to no clue on how to use this appendage in pleasurable ways. Second, because that would mean it would be their first time. Another first time, but somehow he knew this first would be truly memorable.

  
  


“Doctor,” her voice suddenly came from the doorframe.

  
  


Oh yes, this definitely felt like the first time all over again, and a wide smile split his face in two at the sight of her freshly showered body clad in a fluffy bathrobe. Rassilon, this little piece of human was so much more beautiful than any of his expectations. 

  
  


“Can you please stop thinking about your…  _ Appendage _ , as you call it,” she mumbled, quickly brushing a comb through her blond locks with quick and uncoordinated movements that did a poor job of hiding her unease. “It’s rather awkward.”

  
  


And there went his smile, replaced by a horrified widening of his eyes as his hands unconsciously covered his crotch.

  
  


“I’m… I’m sorry, Rose, I didn’t know I was thinking so loud,” he hurried to apologize, the tip of his ears turning an almost alarming shade of crimson. “I was just.. I didn’t mean… It wasn’t about you, well, not really, I mean, yes, of course it was related to you, because who else, but not… Gods, please tell me to stop before I spontaneously combust.”

“It’s alright, Doctor, I get it,” she giggled , throwing her comb at him before she went to her cupboard to fetch fresh clothes. “I just thought a four hundred and twenty-six year old Time Lord would have, er, used  _ it  _ many times already.”

“Not once,” he shrugged, nervously picking a few loose blond hairs from the comb teeth. “I never… Even thought about it before you. Call me a hopeless romantic if you wish, but all that’s ever mattered to me is loving you.”

“You do know sex can be love, too, right?” she asked, genuinely moved by the sincerity of his feelings. “I mean, there’s a reason we call it  _ making love _ , sometimes. I suppose. Not like I’ve ever been there before either, you know.”

“Oh, so you’ve never…”

“No, never, Doctor. But like you  _ thought _ , at least we can be clumsy together when… You know. Anyway, let’s put an end to that embarrassing conversation before we both die of humiliation, and tell me, what’s on the programme today?”

“Anywhere you need to be in particular?” the question a much deserved relief to redirect the conversation to a safe territory.

“Hm, got this physics lesson at two, and that’s pretty much it,” she answered as she picked up a pair of jeans and a pink tee-shirt. 

“Okay, so, here is a suggestion. One, I show you my Tardis, and we make a small detour to the infirmary so I can take care of the planet that’s sprouted on your head. Two, we visit the city for a bit and grab lunch somewhere nice. Three, you go to your lesson and let me worry about Mickey. I promise he’ll be back to see you by the end of the day. Four… I could take you somewhere you’ve never been before. How does that sound?”

“Oh, you can take me to Oxford, then?” she smiled excitedly, snatching a pair of lace knickers in a drawer - a garment he refused to look at, lest it would spark the odd feeling again. “I wanted to check out their library, they have a whole aisle just for quantum physics, can you imagine?”

“I was thinking, just a bit further than that,” he grinned, thrilled to feel her joy again. “Caradon, sixty-eight light years away… That way.”

  
  


He pointed at a corner of her ceiling as if it made perfect sense and would help her imagine where the planet stood in the universe, but all she could see was the tiny dots of mold staining the white paint. She simply couldn’t fathom the idea that he really could take her anywhere in space and she wouldn’t be able to until she’d seen it with her own eyes. He seemed to understand.

  
  


“I mean it, love,” he said softly, rising up from the bed to take her hand. “Anywhere, anytime. All you have to do is ask. Once you’ve seen my Tardis, it’ll be easier to believe. But if that’s what you really want… We could do Oxford. I don’t mind.”

“You know I trust you, Doctor,” she answered with a squeeze on his fingers. “It’s just… I’m human, Doctor. It’s hardly conceivable for me that you can just travel around space and time like I would take the bus to go to the Tesco, you know. But I trust you. I trust you to show me.”

“I will show you, my Rose,” he promised before he pressed a kiss on her lips and tucked a strand of blond hair behind her ear. “Now, go and dress. My Tardis is as eager to meet you as I was.”

“Sentient ship. Right. Be right back. Love you.”

  
  


Oh, how he loved this. The natural way she uttered those words, without even thinking about them, as if she had spoken them a hundred times before and would a hundred times more. As if the feelings behind them were so deeply anchored in her heart she knew she could just spit them out like any other words and it would still be obvious she meant them. She disappeared in the bathroom again, her bundle of clothes against her chest, and he brushed his fingertips against his lips. He had kissed her again. He remembered doing it, and he remembered it had felt wonderfully sweet and soft, but the memory was already gone. He smiled, and tied the dirty laces of his old chucks. Soon enough, he would remember again.

 

It wasn’t long before she emerged, fully dressed, dark smoky make-up around her eyes, blond hair tied into a messy bun on the back of her head. A minute more and her trainers were secured around her feet, her coat shrugged over her back, her bag swung over her shoulder. She took his hand and declared she was ready to go and meet his ship - however odd this sounded in her ears. Well, she was ready until she saw the broken lock on the floor and stared at her key dejectedly.

  
  


“Ah, no worries,” he reassured with a smile, picking up the lock from the carpet. “I can fix this in no time.”

“How? The screws are done for and it’s all twisted. It’s no use, Doctor, you should stay here while I pop in the store, yeah?”

“I can fix it,” he insisted. “Look.”

  
  


She watched as he took out a odd-looking metal stick from his pocket, crowned with a shiny blue pearl that glowed softly under the light. He asked her to hold the lock in place, secured the screws into their holes, and he pressed a button on the device that started to hum, a quiet buzz that had an electric vibe to it. He then aimed it at the twisted part, flicked a switch that produced a slightly different tune, and she frowned at the metal that seemed to melt - just enough to become a malleable paste he carefully shaped back into its original purpose.

  
  


“There, all done,” he announced proudly, shoving the device back in his inside pocket. “They keyhole isn’ broken so it should be fine.”

“What is this thing, Doctor?” she asked, impressed by the little feat he’d just pulled out.

“Sonic screwdriver,” he answered, borrowing her key to fit it in its hole. “I invented it, very practical little thing, can do about anything with it. Not wood, though, not enough resonance in the material. But metal locks, can do. It still needs a bit of tinkering, but well, still gets the job done.”

“This is amazing, Doctor,” she praised as they locked the door behind them without any trouble. “Sell that on Earth and you’d make a mint.”

“I don't need money, I have everything I could ever need or want,” he winked, feeling ridiculous to give in the sudden ego boost that made him blush. “So, Tardis?”

“Oh, yes, I can't wait to see it. How does it look? Like Star Wars ships? Or Star Trek, do you have your own Enterprise? Or… Oh, darn.”

  
  


Her fingers clenched around his as they made their way down the corridor, only to be barred the way by a strict-looking lady on her late fifties, sharp heels and straight skirt, half-moon shaped glasses perched on the tip of her nose. She was obviously not pleased to see them, and he wondered for a moment if every human had this tendency to look annoyed or angry at all times - aside from the precious woman by his side, of course.

  
  


“Miss Greene, hi,” she greeted with a smile that looked way too fake, snatching her hand away from his to shove it deep in her pocket. “Lovely day, isn't it?”

“I’ll have none of that, Miss Tyler,” the lady who definitely didn’t appeal much to him spoke with so much acid in her voice he believed they would melt down to the carpet in a puddle of quivering flesh. “You know this is strictly forbidden, this is a student residence and there are rules. Rules you obviously do not seem worthy of respecting. I have been generous, I didn't report you for smoking, but this…”

“He didn't spend the night,” she was quick to lie, hoping he would be smart enough not to negate the fact. “He arrived like half an hour ago, he needed to get his… Er, science project. Show her, John.”

  
  


He took a moment to understand she was talking to him -  _ John _ , what a common, rubbish name, he thought - and even longer to understand what was this science project she mentioned. It only was when she eyed his chest insistently that he realized she had his sonic screwdriver in mind, and he was quick to get it out.

  
  


“Yes, science project indeed, sonic screwdriver, brilliant thing, can fix anything, do you want me to fix your glasses temples, look a bit twisted,” he babbled, the distress he sensed in his soulmate’s mind enough to spark his own stress. “Slept on them, maybe, or sat on them - Lord no, they would be bro….”

“Hum, John, no, don’t… Don’t say that.”

“What? My Tardis flying professor sat on his monocle once,” he recalled with a grin, pointing his screwdriver at his temple as if he didn’t know human had no clue what a monocle could be. “Wasn’t pretty, so many glass shards in his butt he almost regenerated. It happens, that’s all I’m saying. I, myself, sat on many odd things in my life, you wouldn’t believe… You know what, nevermind. So, did you sit on them, Miss Preen?”

“They are supposed to be this way,” the wrinkled plum huffed loudly, staring at him above the bridge of her fashionable glasses, a stare that pinned him in his chucks - despite his sudden pride at coining the expression with human words,  _ wrinkled plum _ , he quite liked it, had a good sound to it, the image made him smile, and it wasn’t too petty. “Miss Tyler, I don’t know who this quite frankly rude and bizarre man is, but I don’t want to see him wandering these corridors again. I must add, he looks much older than any other student around here, and…”

“Oi!” he hurried to interject, puffing out his chest and pulling on his tie. “I’m just four…”

“Four,  _ twenty-four _ ,” Rose finished for him, discreetly pinching his thigh, a silent order to keep his mouth shut. “It’s the sideburns, they make him look older. Sorry, Miss Greene, but we really have to go, we don’t want to be late to our physics lesson.”

“I’m watching you, Miss Tyler,” the residence attendant warned with a stern look. “One more warning and I’m reporting you. I won’t tolerate any more disturbance in this residence.”

  
  


She hastily nodded and offered a quick, polite smile before she hurried past the old lady, hoping he would follow in her wake. He did, but not without providing the attendant with an opinion he deemed necessary to share.

  
  


“I don’t like your glasses,” he simply stated, tapping his finger on an imaginary temple close to his ear. “Nor do I like you. You’re quite rude, and trust me, I know a thing or two about  _ rude _ . It wasn’t a pleasure to meet you, Miss Preen. I hope I will not see you again. Have a nice day.”

  
  


He gifted her with a bright smile that was only answered by an outraged gasp, but he was already joining a guffawing Rose at the end of the corridor and slipping his fingers between hers.

  
  


“You do realize I might just be expelled from the residence because of you?” she giggled as they made their way down the steps into hall opening on the street.

“If you are, you can live in the Tardis,” he reassured her - and he would never admit he rather liked the idea of having one Rose Tyler wander the corridors of his ship everyday. “I could set you up a nice room, so big you’d get lost inside it, a bed so large you’d spend a whole hour just to find the right spot, a bathroom with a tub so deep you could dive in it.”

“Don’t tempt me, Doctor, ‘cause I might just get expelled on purpose,” she laughed, mindlessly letting him lead her into a deserted alley adjacent to the residence. “So, where’s your giant Enterprise, then? Buried under the ground? No, I know, invisibility shield and it’s up in the air.”

“It’s actually right in front of your eyes, love,” he smiled, dropping her hand to stride towards the blue box nestled between two decrepit walls of concrete and lean against its doors with his arms crossed against his chest, as if he wanted to strike a heroic pose. “ _ This _ , is my Tardis. What do you think?”

  
  


She looked around for a moment, confusion written all over her face, until she spotted the obvious. The blue police box. The same box she had believed was a piece of modern art back on the university campus, on the square of grass where she had met him for the first time. The box he had been trying hard to open to hide from her, without much success. It was preposterous. He had just told her she could have a giant bedroom and the both of them would barely fit inside it. He had told her it could fly through time and space, and it was made of worn wood covered in scraped off blue paint. It was just an ancient police box dating back to a few decades. It made no sense. And yet, she was drawn to the little light that flickered on its roof, like a moth to a flame. She wanted to believe.

 

She took a few shy steps towards the box, and a sudden laugh echoed in her ears - no, not in her ears, in her head. A sound that felt like a warm trickle down her neck and pulsed softly in the veins of her brain, a buzz that was but a facsimile of a laugh, a merry hum that thrummed against her skull and echoed down to her heart. Much like when he talked to her, breathed words and emotions in the confines of her mind, but at the same time so very different. It was quiet when he screamed, it was soft when he roared, it was friendly when he loved. She had the odd feeling that is was also much more feminine, and she wondered if a sentient ship could even have a gender. The closer she got, the clearer she could discern the uncanny presence. Both awkward and snug, overwhelming and serene.

 

The hum grew louder when she hesitantly brushed a fingertip against the uneven surface of the old wood, and she heard him chuckle under his breath. The door softly clicked open under her hand and she quickly jerked her fingers away, the gentle vibrations that coursed through her skin hitting her like a jolt of electricity. He slipped behind her, wrapped an arm around her waist and nestled his chin in the crook of her shoulder, planting a soft kiss on her shivering skin.

  
  


“I told you she’d like you, love,” he murmured, a smile in his voice, gently pushing the door open with his foot. “Welcome to my Tardis, Rose Tyler. Welcome to anywhere and anytime.”

  
  


* * *

 


	14. Nice to Meet You

* * *

 

 

The metal grating creaked under her first step and her hand flew to the railing  - though how she noticed there even was a railing, she didn’t know. She didn’t know much in that moment anyway. Everything she had ever learnt, everything little piece of knowledge she thought she had a firm grasp on, everything she had ever read or heard and memorized. Years spent nose-deep in books, manuals, articles, précis, to study the deepest mysteries of physics and chemistry and astronomy, to understand how the world and the universe worked. It was all sucked into a bottomless void, erased from the fabric of her reality to be replaced by a vague and unnerving feeling of ignorance. She had always been a rational person, building reflections and ideas on the solid base of facts and truths. This base was now but an ice sheet melting under too hot a sun. Nothing made sense anymore. Nothing ever would again. 

 

She had an alien soulmate. That had already shaken her world more than she dared to admit in front of him, but somehow, it felt natural. He was the man she had been waiting for all her life without really knowing why. He was that one page in her notepad she had once lost - a page she hadn’t known had been missing, a page that didn’t mean much on its own, a page she didn’t really need to read and learn the others. But once she had found that page again in a corner of her drawer and put it back where it belonged, she had suddenly understood, to the trickiest and hardest details, that one mathematical formula she had never mastered. He was that one page. The man she had managed to live without, but a man that filled that tiny -  _ gaping  _ \- hole in her life and held it all together. She felt she belonged with him. It felt natural.

 

Unlike what she was seeing. That was  _ far  _ from natural. She knew she could probably never understand any of it. She wasn’t sure she wanted to anyway. Keep the  _ magic  _ of it all alive - because no matter how scientific and rational his explanations on how any of it could be real would be, she wouldn’t be able to shake off the feeling that there had to be some magic into it.

 

She wished she had a hundred extra pairs of eyes to take it all in at once, a bigger brain to remember to the smallest details of this, quite literally, extraordinary sight, a stronger heart that wouldn’t beat so hard and fast against her ribcage. She took in the overall picture, an enchanted image she imagined belonged in a science-fiction art book designed for some kind of game or movie - although she doubted anyone could ever come up with such a wonderfully elaborated ship. It looked alive. It  _ felt  _ alive. The spotlights diffused a pale yellow light she believed to be natural sunlight pumped inside the ship, the beams pulsing in quiet waves that hugged the old-tree-shaped pillars holding the dome of metal scooping them up inside a console room of some sort. The dozens of buttons she spotted on the circular panel framing a glass tube she was sure ended up into the light bulb crowning the blue box, the odd levers, the wonky wheels, the tiny switches, the bleeping radars, the bright screens. She thought that must be the logical requirements to fly into time and space, if such a steampunk ensemble of technology could ever allow such a miracle to happen. But what bewildered her the most wasn't the technology. Quite the opposite, in fact.

 

No. What struck her the most was the way the grating felt like it was humming under her feet, as if thousands of excited invisible bees were droning in the depths of the blue box. And the way the struts of pale pink coral seemed to be drummed repeatedly from the inside with iron fingers, an awkwardly rhythmic sound, like a bizarre chant that wanted to be heard. And the way the lights flickered out whenever she looked directly into a spotlight, like a benevolent nicety so her eyes wouldn’t have to squint under too bright a stream. And, then, there was this one sound. A sound that wasn’t really a sound, a sound only her brain and her mind could hear. A pleased whisper, a joyful giggle, a relieved sigh. The same presence she had felt mere moments before she had stepped into the outworldly ship, that pulled on her mind like a child would have pulled on her hand to drag her some place they wanted to show her. As stupid and unreal this seemed to be, she was now convinced the ship was alive. The metal was her skin, the coral was her skeleton, the buttons were her organs, the buzz coursing through every walls and resonating deep down to her core was her voice.  _ Her _ .  _ She _ . 

 

She followed the tug on her mind and took a few steps towards one of the pillars. Her fingers met the surface, both rough and smooth, hot and cold, the same persistent drumming echoing through her skin in perfect unison with her heartbeat.

  
  


“Hello,” she murmured softly - and the embarrassment she felt talking to a  _ strut  _ was quickly smothered by the elation and thrill that bloomed in her stomach. “I’m Rose. Rose Tyler. I’m…  It’s nice to… Meet you.”

  
  


The lights blinked all at once, a groan erupted from under her feet, and a laugh tripped over her tongue at the sudden and unexpected tickle that teased the nape of her neck. His long arm wrapped around her waist and his nose nuzzled the underside of her jaw, his lips drawn into a smile sowing a kiss on the column of her throat.

  
  


“She says she’s delighted to meet you, too,” he enlightened her, reaching inside his pocket to take out a golden chain on which a small key was hooked. “And she wants you to have this.”

  
  


He was a bit taken aback when she spun into the embrace of his arm and stared at him, mouth gaping open and the purest look of incredulity he had ever witnessed anyone wearing. She looked at the key dangling from its strings of little links, then at his face, then at the key again, then raised her eyebrows with a small bow of the head, as if inviting him to repeat. He brought the key close to her nose, letting it swing in the air like he would have done with some kind of hypnotising pendulum, and so he repeated.

  
  


“She wants you to have this,” he reiterated, a bit more slowly as if it would help her understand better. “And she’s delighted to finally meet you.”

“Right,” she nodded, biting her sharp teeth into her bottom lip with a just as confused frown. “You’re obviously trying to communicate, but I’m sorry, Doctor, I only speak English and a bit of French. I’m afraid I don’t speak… Whatever this is. Don’t get me wrong, it sounds beautiful and I love it, but I just can’t understand any of it.”

“What?”

  
  


She could only hear a short string of singing syllables when he obviously wanted to express his confusion, and she suddenly realized the tune was made of the same sounds and notes he had sung into her head before. A music that fell into her ears like drops of thick honey, that made her heart purr and her stomach dance a wild tango, a melody that followed the high-pitched open vowels of his words that fell down to a low strum faster than an out-of-tune instrument. She had to stare at him for a few more seconds, and he awkwardly stared back at her until understanding dawned on his features and he offered a sheepish giggle.

  
  


“Sorry,” he smiled an apology, ruffling his already well-tousled hair with a quick brush of his fingers. “It seems the Tardis isn’t translating just yet, so I’ll have to stick to English for a while longer.”

“That was your language, then?” she asked - and she suddenly hoped he would be able to teach her how to speak it, one of these days.

“Yep, Gallifreyan, probably the hardest language that’s ever been invented,” he explained, proudly puffing out his chest. “The Citadel dialect, language of the erudites and politicians. There are much simpler dialects, of course, but only used by those who won’t ever get a chance of climbing up the social ladder. My parents were farmers on the outskirts of the Citadel, they spoke Gripan, the most basic form of Gallifreyan. Then there’s the Gican, spoken by rich merchants and artisans, the Giuman, spoken by the aristocracy, and the Gallian, the one I speak. Usually, your social rank is determined by your family, and by the language you learn. I should have learnt Gripan and remained of farmer for a few centuries until I’d have died of boredom.”

“Why didn’t you?”

  
  


A hook of embarrassment and regret tugged at her stomach as his smile somehow faded and his chest deflated, the vanished pride giving way to a hardly concealed sorrow. He lowered his eyes to observe the worn rubber of his shoes and rocked on the ball of his feet, loudly clearing his throat to make sure his voice wouldn’t waver or come out constricted.

  
  


“My mother died when I was two,” he started to explain, willingly landing his hand when he fingers seeked to wrap around his. “It was a rough year and they were out of credits. They couldn’t afford to buy Fhoen repellent to spray on the crops, and she got bit. Fhoens are… Some kind of field snakes. Big, fast, venomous, deadly. They should have both stopped working, but those crops were the only thing they had to put food on the table. My father died eight months later. I was told it was suicide, but I don’t believe it. The few things I inherited from them… They make me think he just died of grief.”

“I’m… I’m so sorry, Doctor,” she murmured as she brought his knuckles to her lips, brushing a lone tear away from his cheek with the pad of her thumb. “I shouldn't have asked, it was a stupid question. I’m sorry.”

“That’s alright,” he shrugged dismissively, though she saw how he nervously fiddled with the key pendant. “I didn’t even know them, I heard the story from my uncle. He was the one who was supposed to take care of me after my parents died, but he just sent me away to an institution then bought me my ticket to the Academy. The only good thing about him was that he was rich and he could pay for my education. Come to think of it, if my parents hadn’t died, I would have never met you. I’d be harvesting small crops of sweetcorn, right now, or I’d be dead already. I guess… This was fate. It needed to happen for me to find you. So, yes. In a way… I’m glad it happened. I have you, now, and I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

  
  


He leaned his face into her warm hand that cupped his jaw and squeezed her other fingers, his lips stretching into a small but genuine smile. He couldn’t find it in him to be sad. His parents had died centuries before, he wasn’t even sure the few memories he could recollect were accurate, and though he was quite sure he had loved them dearly the first two years of his life, that love was now but a distant footprint in the sand that was steadily disappearing under the wave of time. He’d keep the only picture he had retrieved from the farm going to rack and ruin, an old and faded photograph snapped at their wedding, and that would be enough to remember them. He had his own life to live, now, and his own love to share with his beautiful soulmate. He had his own memories to make.

 

He realized he was still holding the second key of the pair he’d been given and let the chain hang from the tip of his finger, putting the key level with her eyes.

  
  


“As I was saying,” he started again, his smile turning much brighter and lighter. “This is a Tardis key.  _ Your  _ key. If you want it. I meant it, Rose, you could stay here. Live here, with me. You don’t have to give me an answer just yet, just know that...”

“Yeah,” she interrupted before he could add another word.

  
  


She cupped her hand under the key and gathered it in the crook of her palm, the chain jingling softly as it fell from his index. He clasped his hand over hers, his smile only matched by hers as she playfully nudged his hip with her own. 

  
  


“Yeah?” he asked with that tinge of hope in his voice that made her realize this was the right decision.

“I want a proper bathtub and a big desk,” she taunted as an answer, sauntering away into a corridor that counted so many doors she believed half of them were fake. “And I don’t want  _ my  _ bedroom, I want  _ our  _ bedroom.”

“We could take mine for now, then,” he grinned, quick to join her in front of a deep burgundy oak door emblazoned with a Gallifreyan circle. “Haven’t used it yet, so it should be clean and tidy. Go on, open it. If there’s anything you don’t like, just ask the Tardis to change it.”

  
  


Their locked fingers lightly swung back and forth as she pressed down on the golden handle, a soft click echoing in the felted atmosphere in which the bedroom was floating. The cold and the metal of the corridor opened on a warm and cosy room that had nothing futuristic about it but the ceiling - a glass panel, a window that opened on a deep blue night sky dotted with sparkling stars and a big satellite resembling the Moon tucked in a corner of the canvas. The exact ceiling she had imagined she’d like mere moments before she had opened the door. She took a shy step on the soft maroon carpeted floor that looked so fluffy she was almost tempted to take off her shoes and curl her toes in the tufts of brown fuzz. A large, round shaped bed stood right under the simulated sky, covered with a heavy duvet and a small mountain of pillows and cushions. Nothing like her lousy bed with a foam mattress that always caused her to wake up with a pain in her spine and her lousy pillow barely big enough and full of hard cotton balls that more often than not meant a burning headache and half a stiff neck in the morning. 

 

In a corner, a large mahogany desk was squeezed in, a thick leather desk chair stowed under it, three rows of shelves neatly aligned against the wall above it. She barely had time to think she would probably need more than three shelves to store her books and binders, barely had time to blink before three more shelves appeared above the others. The thin hair at the back of her neck rose, a shiver running down her back at the pleased giggle the ship breathed into her mind.

  
  


“She’s good, isn’t she?” he praise with a broad smile, tugging on her hand to take her to a double door. “The ceiling is a nice touch, looks good. I’ll show you the real thing, though, much better.”

“The real thing?” she asked, unconsciously leaning into his side as he started to slide the door open.

“Oh yes, we’ll go into space and I’ll open the doors,” he nodded, unable to contain his excitement. “We’ll fly just above Earth if you want, get a nice view of your planet. So, bathroom. Let’s see…”

  
  


He slid the doors open all the way, but instead of the large tub and warm rugs he had asked for, his eyes met the cold interior of the medical bay.

  
  


“Ah, quite right,” he sighed, giving the back of his head a sheepish scratch. “She, uh, thinks it would be better to take care of you first.”

“I’m fine, though,” she reassured him - and she refused to tell him how much she hated doctors, and anything medical-related for that matter. “Really, I’m alright, yeah?”

“The thing is, the Tardis can be very stubborn,” he told her as he walked towards a cupboard and motionned for her to sit on the leather couch. “Won’t take long, just a bit of ointment. Still have a headache?”

“Maybe just a bit,” she admitted, awkwardly hopping on the couch and clasping her hands firmly on her lap to hide their shallow trembling.

  
  


She watched as he snapped a pair of latex gloves over his large hands, and she jumped lightly at the sound it made, like a whip cracking in the air that didn’t really bode well. It was just a bump and a slight headache, surely he didn’t need to put gloves to treat such minor things. Obviously, he sensed her distress and offered a comforting smile as he brought a glass of water and two white pills he presented on a tray.

  
  


“Aspirin,” he clarified when she hesitated to take the pills, simply twirling the water around the plastic edge of her cup. “I need the gloves because it can kill me. It’s a blood thinner, doesn’t work well on a binary vascular system. And they use sulfuric acid as a catalyst, perfectly safe for humans, but a mere residu would strike me dead within ten seconds. That’s why I keep it locked up.”

  
  


He pointed his thumb to a cupboard, that was indeed securely closed with a latch, and his justification made enough sense for her to swallow the pills. It wasn’t the same aspirin she knew of, given how quickly it worked on her headache and the pleasant wave of warmth that replaced the dull ache knocking against her skull - she had to admit, the relief it brought was actually much more welcome than she would have first believed. Her relief was short-lived, however, as her whole body tensed again when he sat on a stool and rolled it so close to her his knee slid between her legs and his overwhelming presence swallowed her whole. She tried to close her eyes, but it made it even worse. To feel him move around her without seeing what he was doing was putting too much of a strain on her nerves, her heart stuttering each time he did something unexpected or touch her somewhere unanticipated.

  
  


“Relax, love,” he comforted her with a brush of his latex fingers over her jaw. “It’ll only take a minute. Brush your hair back for me?”

  
  


She gathered the few strands of blond hair that had escaped the prison of her bun between her fingers and tugged them back, watching as he squeezed a blueish gel over his fingers. She felt compelled to grin at the way his eyes squinted in concentration and the tip of his tongue peeked out between his lips, just before he started to carefully rub his gel onto the bump. Her grin melted into a fond smile, her fingers splayed over his thigh and caressed his leg up and down, picking up the same rhythm he was circling the protrusion with, her ankle and foot locked around his on the footstool. His touch was soft and meticulous, perhaps a bit cold, but he was obviously doing his very best not to cause her any more pain or discomfort. 

 

She realized she still hadn’t had the leisure of observing his face as accurately as she had wanted to, so she indulged in a little examination of all his weird and yet handsome features. His brown eyes, either dark and fiery or light and sparkling depending on the lighting - this was one of the latter, and she could make out all the ridges, depths and tracks drawn into his chocolate irises, like a maze that led to the impenetrable black of his pupil. It was in those eyes that she could see how old he already was. Nothing about him was more telling that the wisdom and the intelligence that shone in their depth, like a faraway light of a thousand year-old star that could live a million years longer. That probably was the thing she loved about him the most. Eyes that spoke so loud of the tender love and sweet affection he felt for her, mingled with the raw devotion and fierce need to protect her that transpired through each of his looks. She was sure no man had ever looked at anyone with that kind of eyes, and just as sure no man ever would. 

  
  


“I wouldn’t mind if you brushed your teeth and washed your mouth first,” he smiled softly as he finally drew back and took off his gloves - it was only then that she realized her body had bent forward on its own and her lips were half-open, ready to kiss him. “Don’t get me wrong, I love kissing you, but don’t want to die just yet.”

“Right, sorry,” she laughed, just a tad embarrassed. “You make it awfully hard to resist the temptation, though.”

“Says she,” he teased, poking her in the ribs with a fingertip. “Rose, there’s… Um, you don’t have to say yes, of course, that’s just an offer. I just thought...”

“What offer?” she raised an eyebrow, frowning at his sudden unease.

  
  


He nibbled his lower lip and drummed his fingers against his knee, obvious hesitation painted all over his face, but he eventually took her hand in a gentle hold and slowly rolled the sleeve of her grey jumper up to her elbow. He trailed his finger over the nacre scars slicing through the circles of her soulmark, twinkling almost too prettily under the bright white light shed by the lamp. 

  
  


“I could erase them,” he whispered, so lowly it sounded as if he didn’t want to be heard.

“Do you… Do you want to?” she asked just as softly, watching his hand dance over the skin of her arm.

“It hurts to see them,” he admitted through a sheepish sigh. “It’s hard to know I did this. But I can live with it, if you want to keep them. You tell me, love. This is your choice, not mine.”

“Will it erase the mark, too?”

“No, it won’t. Soulmarks can never be erased, they’re part of you.”

“Then do it, please,” she accepted, bunching her sleeve even higher up her arm. “I… I kinda hate them. So yeah, please, do it.”

  
  


He nodded his assent, seemingly relieved she had so readily agreed to his suggestion, and picked a small rectangular device from a nearby tray - she then understood he had planned to make this offer long before he had even talked about it. He really did want those scars gone, probably more than she did. He gently cradled her naked arm against his chest and placed a kiss in the crook of her elbow.

  
  


“It won’t hurt, but it might feel odd,” he warned her, flicking a small switch the device that started to hum lowly. “Tell me of you want me to stop, okay?”

  
  
  


He planted another kiss on the first scar his lips met, then pressed his slightly vibrating contraption against her skin, leaving it in place for a few seconds until a quiet beep signaled it had worked. It  _ was  _ rather odd, if she was honest with herself, but far from disagreeable. It tickled, just a little, and the warmth of it sank deep into her skin, but to know the ugly scars would only be but a grim memory was more than enough to make the whole thing almost pleasant. Especially since he made sure to kiss each white track that marred her skin, every brush of his lips a murmured apology she answered with a squeeze of his thigh between her own. It didn’t take long for all the scars to disappear, replaced by the smooth expense of skin she was used to, the pale surface only broken by the slightly brighter circles and lines etched into her arm. He pressed one last kiss on the heel of her hand and caressed her arm with his fingertips, a shaky smile drawing the corners of his mouth up.

  
  


“Better?” he asked, wanting to make absolutely sure she didn’t regret doing it.

“Much,” she reassured him, drawing him into a tight hug as a thank you - she would make sure to thank him with a kiss whenever she’s be free of any remaining traces of aspirin. “Thanks, Doctor, you sure live up to your name.”

“Whatever my Hulis wants,” he smiled, brushing his lips over the now smooth and even surface of her forehead. “So, I suppose the first part of our programme is now completed, so what should we do?”

“Anywhere you want to go in particular?”

“Yes,” he suddenly beamed, jumping off his stool to rush back into the room and rummage through a cupboard.

  
  


She joined him with an amused shake of her head, but a gasp quickly fell from her lips when he emerged from the wardrobe with a stack of rolls of brand new banknotes that, at first glance, probably amounted to several thousands. He seemed perpexled, however, and frowned dubitatively at all the notes he sifted through.

  
  


“I was sure I had more than this,” he mumbled, going back to search his cupboard, unaware that she was about to go bonkers at the sight of so much money. “Do you think that’ll be enough for a quick meal somewhere? I’m afraid I’ve lost the rest of it.”

“Hum, Doctor, I think we have enough to do all the five-stars in London with this,” she pointed out after clearing her throat, unable to stop a laugh from escaping her mouth at his renewed glee. “Where the Hell did you find it?”

“Exchanged what little credits I had left at the intergalactic bank,” he said with a smile, stuffing part of his notes inside his pocket. “I guess the rates worked in my favour. So, one question remains before we go out.”

  
  


She frowned at the unexpected seriousness that veiled his face, replacing his childish excitement, and the way he took her hands, like no question would ever be as important and meaningful as that one. She cocked her head to the side, watched his nostrils flare as he took in a deep breath, her heartbeat ramping up as she waited for the dreaded question. His eyebrow fell lower over his eyes and he squeezed her hands tighter.

  
  


“Can you drive?”

 

* * *

 


	15. We're Special

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this chapter started out as much too silly and fluffy, and I had to fall on the dark side again - thus, the length, enjoy the 5.5k!
> 
> Before you start this, quick reminder: this Doctor has never visited Earth before, nor any other planet for that matter, so keep that in mind - because if you don't, the silly will turn into stupid and I don't want that to happen.
> 
> I really struggled with the last important dialogue and I'm not sure everything is quite clear - if it's not, I'll rewrite it.
> 
> The next chapter is almost ready, it should be cute despite Rose not really being in it, and then... On to the superior notch, guys, Caradon is almost here!
> 
> I hope you'll enjoy it, please let me know what you think! :-)

* * *

 

 

Half an hour later, she was handing a fifty pound note to the drowsy man behind the counter of the small car-rental company that had settled at the end of her street a few months back, along with her driving licence she had rarely used ever since she had passed her test two years before. She wasn’t even sure she’d actually be able to drive a car after so long without practising, especially in the center of London, but the Doctor had been so excited she would have felt awful not to offer him a small ride into the city. She couldn’t quite fathom what it was that made him jump around like a hyperactive kid told they were going to Disneyland. He owned a spaceship - a ship that travelled through space, and incidentally through time, surely there should have been nothing exciting about getting stuck in heavy traffic, locked inside an old Clio that would smell of must at worst, cheap cleaning spray at best. 

 

She grabbed the set of keys she was given along with a small card that read the time the car should be returned at the company and an insurance number she shoved in her pocket. When he understood they were good to go, he quickly clasped his fingers around hers and tugged on her hand to lead her through the corridor of silver cars neatly parked along a dark garage.

  
  


“This is wonderful,” he praised, trailing his fingers on the hoods of the cars, taking some time to look at each of them despite their obvious similarity. “We don’t have these on Gallifrey. The only things on wheels we have are lousy ploughs and carts, for the fields, you know. You’d think a people who can fly Tardises would have thought about building cars, but no, kids have to travel in barrows and the rest, well, they walk. Look at that, Rose, a car that moves on  _ solid ground _ . Fantastic.”

  
  


She could only laugh heartily at his awe, and, thinking this would bring more joy to his already delighted face, she offered the key in the crook of her palm and told him to press the button to see which car was theirs. The orange blinkers flickered to life a few feet away to their right, and he clapped his hands at the sound of the screeching beep echoing against the concrete walls of the hangar. He let go of her hand and hurried towards the car, quick to fling the door open and crash on the seat.

  
  


“Funny,” he told her as he drummed his long fingers on the wheel, playing with the pedals under his feet. “This is actually smaller on the inside.”

“Disappointed?” she teased as she leaned against the door, purposefully letting the keys dangle from between her fingers to show him he wouldn’t get far without them.

“Not at all, I’m actually surprised such a little means of transportation can be so comfortable,” he smiled, unfazed by the way his knees bumped against the underside of the wheel and his shoulders hunched to accommodate his height in such a confined space.

“It’ll be even more comfy on the passenger seat, Doctor,” she pointed out, throwing her bag on the backseat.

“Can’t I drive a little?” he asked, his eyebrows shooting up, hopeful.

“Not today,” she shook her head - and his smile faded a little as he awkwardly, and just a bit begrudgingly, climbed over the gear stick to plop down on the other seat. “But I promise I’ll let you whenever we’re alone in the countryside or on an empty parking lot, yeah?”

“Alright,” he sighed in defeat, fiddling with the buttons to adjust the seat. “So, where are we going?”

“How about we tour the city and stop for lunch somewhere that catches your fancy?” she offered, slipping behind the wheel, adjusting her own seat and her mirrors. “We’ve paid for three hours, we have more than enough time. Don’t forget your seatbelt, I don’t want you to crash through the windshield. Ready?”

“Oh yes, _ allons-y, _ ” he grinned, his smile growing even wider as she turned on the ignition.

  
  


They both winced when a low-beat rap song blared through the speakers and the engine roared to life, basses so loud the windows trembled, and she anxiously punched a few buttons at random on the radioplayer until blessed silence fell again. 

  
  


“Humans do have odd tastes in music,” he commented, massaging the his ear with a fingertip. “Do you enjoy it?”

“Not this kind,” she said with a grimace, pressing one of the arrows a few times to find something they could both actually like. “Ah, this is good. Ever heard of Maurice Ravel?”

“Hm”, he started, squinting his eyes as he rummaged through the many drawers of his brain to find the information he was sure he had learnt along the course of his studies. “That’s… The  _ Bolero _ , isn’t it?”

“One point to the Doctor,” she smiled, giving his thigh a gentle slap. “Shame the guy died before this became a hit. Thought it was rubbish and considered it as his worst piece. You should go back in time and tell him the whole world will eventually love it, you know. Put that tardis of yours to good use.”

“We could,” he nodded - and the way he tapped his hands on the dashboard and wiggled on his seat let her know he was growing impatient. “Now, come on, Rose, we’ve already lost five minutes and thirty-eight seconds.”

“Alright, hang on to your seat.”

  
  


She was glad the car didn’t stall at her first try, and giggled under her breath at the way he stuck his nose to his window to watch outside. She still didn’t understand his enthusiasm, especially at such a slow pace and the awfully dull landscape of a simple garage only lit by a few spotlights, but well, at least he wouldn’t be too hard to please, she supposed. She entered the first monument that popped in her head on the small GPS screen and finally pulled out of the parking lot, flicking a blinker on as she set to turn to the left. She didn’t live that far from the center of the city, just far enough to live in an affordable room she could pay for with her meagre student loan, so it wouldn’t take long before they reached their first destination. He took notice of the dozen of minutes lighting up on the screen and miserably failed to hide his disappointment - she promised him that was only one stop and that they’d drive further, which reanimated the dying smile sketched over his lips.

 

Every few seconds, he pointed at the numerous signs planted along the road, asking what they meant, complaining loudly that there were far too many rules, sighing at the stupid speed limits - what was the point of having a car that could go as fast as a hundred miles per hour if they were barely allowed to hit fifty. The only thing that kept his frustration from building up was the way she soothingly rubbed his thigh at each stop, bent to kiss his cheek at each red light, let him play with the air vents and fiddle with the radio whenever the background song wasn’t to his liking. 

 

All of that, and the way he allowed himself to be distracted by  _ her,  _ whenever the landscape behind the window grew too dull, too similar. He kept stealing glances at the way her fingers handled the gear stick, or at the light frown on concentration that pulled on her eyebrows. At her eyes in the rearview mirror, and the smile that pulled at her lips when he met her look. At her strong thighs that tightened as she maneuvered the pedals, the muscles working under the tight fabric of her jeans, or at her chest split in the middle by the seatbelt, the swells neatly shaped under her jumper. All of those things that made the disappointment going with his inability to drive so much easier to bear. 

 

When they finally entered the center of the city, his trepidation flew off the charts and she had to open his window so he could stick his head out and watch the scenery reeling out before his eyes from closer. 

  
  


“So many people,” he whispered, more to himself than to her, taking in the crowds hurrying along the sidewalk, with newspapers in their hands and umbrellas tucked under their arms. “They all know where to go even without seeing where they’re going. This is fascinating.”

“You get used to it,” she told him, leaning towards him to point a finger at a large opening topped with a blue line and a few white words. “That’s the underground, everyone travels like this. Cars are actually very impractical in London, more people have an Oyster than a license.”

“How do you mean,  _ underground _ ?” he asked as he drunk the sight of the hundreds of people swallowed in and spat out the huge mouth in the wall.

“Trains, underground,” she enlightened him - and realized it had been a mistake the moment his head shot to to the side to stare at her.

“Can we go? Can we get a Conch? Do you have one? Do I have enough money to buy one?” he assailed her with his questions, twisting around on his seat as the car was spurred into motion again and the entrance to the station fled out of sight.

“An  _ Oyster _ , Doctor,” she corrected him with an amused chuckle, driving into the street that marked their final stop. “How about we finish our tour first, yeah? We can stop here, grab lunch and then we’ll head back home. We can do the underground tomorrow, off-peak. How does that sound?”

“Underground trains, Rose,” he repeated, blinking through his amazement. “Those weren’t in my books. Humans are fabulous. What else do you have?”

“Dunno, double-deckers, planes, boats,” she enumerated as she managed to park parallel to the sidewalk in a thankfully deserted street. “Bikes, scooters, skates. Have you got ice on your planet?”

“No, we don’t,” he lamented, freeing himself from the seatbelt. “Too hot. Deserts and fields and more deserts. My planet is beautiful, but rather… Boring, after a while.”

“Ice-skating it is, then,” she grinned, tongue tucked between her teeth. “Don’t worry, my Doctor, you’ll get to do a bit of each if you want. How was the car? Good?”

  
  


His only answer was a bright smile and a kiss he was quick to pull her into, his large palm cradling the base of her skull while his free arm wrapped around her shoulders. He was finding out they were both quick learners - and rather bold, if the way their bodies curved to meet and their hands dared to pull on hair and on loose hems of clothes. He adored it, knowing they were growing accustomed to each other in such an intimate way, knowing nothing could ever get awkward or embarrassing between them, knowing they were both so in love with each other, that they could share just about anything without fearing the consequences. He didn’t think he would ever get over the fact that he had found his special someone, his soulmate, and could touch her, kiss her, love her, when not so long ago he had believed she was but a treacherous figment of his imagination. He almost wanted to take her to the Citadel, show them, show all of those who didn’t believe,  _ look at my soulmate and tell me she’s not real, take a good look at my soulmate and tell me she’s not the most perfect soulmate you’ve ever seen _ . It might have been foolish and particularly frivolous, but nothing would make him prouder that prove he had been right to trust his fate.

 

It was just a kiss. Not uncoordinated anymore, not hesitant, not clumsy, not shy. Their mouth met with elegance, their lips brushed against each other with grace, their jaws worked with delicacy. It was just a kiss, and an almost chaste one at that. But then she hooked her fingers through the hair at the back of his head and pulled him closer, her hand wrapped around his tie and tugged him closer, her lips parted to suck his lower own into the heat of her mouth, and that was too new, too fast. Was it what humans called  _ snogging _ ? If it was, he was quite sure he would soon become addicted. The moan that rose in his throat broke out the seam of his lips at about the same time her tongue fought its way in, and he suddenly was leaning over her, pressing into her, pushing her back against the door, scrambling over the gear stick that dug uncomfortably into his thigh. Not that he noticed anyway. He didn’t notice much more than his chest pressing into hers and the ostentatious sounds of tongues meeting, of lips sucking, of teeth clacking, of groans fusing. If he hadn’t been too drunk on her scent and too intoxicated by the way she made every fuse in his brain blow up like firecrackers, by the way her hands were all over him at once and her leg managed to wrap around his waist, he might have paid slightly more consideration to the heat pooling somewhere way down his stomach. She noticed before he did.

  
  


“Doctor,” she breathed out heavily between sharp intakes of air, shifting her hips away from his. “We should really stop.”

“Why?” he protested through a sigh, his lips finding hers again for a kiss she was quick to break. “I love it. I love you.”

“Yes, I can  _ feel  _ that, Doctor,” she insisted, pushing on his shoulders to keep him away. “I love it and I love you too, my Doctor, but I have this one advantage that I can get out of the car without being arrested for exhibition. The sooner we stop, the faster we can actually leave this car, yeah?”

“What do you…” he started, until he saw how she purposefully glanced at his trousers. “Oh.  _ Oh _ .”

  
  


He fell back into his seat with a groan of annoyance and chastised her with a gentle slap on her thigh when she chuckled just a little breathlessly. 

  
  


“It’s  _ not  _ funny,” he mumbled, hoping the heat he felt emanating from his ears didn’t translate into a sudden crimson colouring of his skin. “Is this going to happen every time I kiss you? Or sleep next to you? Because that will be a problem. A very annoying problem.”

“I suppose not,” she shrugged with a smile, pulling on the sun visor to take a look at her face in the miniature mirror. “I don’t know, you should know better that I do, it’s your equipment, not mine.”

“Well, my  _ equipment  _ is still brand new, Rose Tyler, excuse-me if I didn’t feel the need to wave it around just to give a try,” he grumbled, crossing his arms above his chest, a scowl taking possession of his features. “Time Lords are not even supposed to have  _ erections _ , or so you humans call it, not even supposed to be aroused. I didn’t even know this would happen, so, sorry I seem to lack any control over a part of my body I have never used for that purpose.”

  
  


Her smile flickered out at the obvious distress in his voice, and she was quick to catch his restless hand into her own, brushing a soothing thumb over his knuckles. She snuggled against his chest, not caring that the seatbelt buckles were painfully digging into her side, and pressed a soft kiss over his tense jaw.

  
  


“It’s alright, Doctor,” she reassured him, giving his chin an affectionate pinch. “Nothing to be ashamed of, yeah? If anything… It proves you find me a bit attractive, doesn’t it?”

“You are most definitely _not_ a bit attractive, love,” he disagreed with a vehement shake of his head, enveloping her whole face, her whole body with a single look that was still heavily hooded. “What a rubbish word, _attractive_. You’re a goddess that would put Aphrodite to shame. You’re the kind of beauty no one can describe with words, the kind of charm no one could ever imagine. You are nothing like the woman of my dreams. Whatever expectations, whatever I ever came up with in the depths of my imagination, they are less than nothing compared to you. I knew I’d love you, no matter how you looked, because you are my soulmate and you are made for me, as much as I am made for you, but you… You’re perfection. I wish there was a better word to describe how I see you. You’re so high above perfection I’d need to coin a thousand words just to draw a rough sketch of everything you are to me. It’s not just about your body. It’s about everything that makes you…. _You_. I desire _you_. I crave _you_. I love _you_. All of you.”

  
  


She couldn’t answer. If she would have been able to find a single word to answer, it would have remained locked in her throat that grew so tight not a breath could get through. Not even the sob that bloomed in the pit of her chest, deep, loud, just not loud enough to drown the torrent of thoughts and feelings he poured through their link. Her whole body shook as she straightened back onto her seat, fixed her disheveled hair, wiped a smudge of gloss from the corner of her lips, straightened the collar of her jumper that had slid over her shoulder. She ignored the nudge of worry that poked her stomach she was quite sure was his, and ignored how he shifted on his seat to look at her with concern etched deep into the line drawn by his knitted eyebrows. She simply fought her tears and willed her dry tongue to work, just to speak a few words she knew held the cries her eyes wouldn’t betray.

  
  


“I’m gonna pay for the parking,” she offered as an explanation, out of the car before he could even hear the last of her sentence.

  
  


He watched, mouth agape, hearts hammering against his ribcage and acute anxiety pinned hard somewhere between his lungs. He watched as she slammed the door shut behind her. He watched as she hurried towards the parking meter. He watched as she brought a hand to her face, probably to brush tears away. He watched as she furiously searched her pockets for a few coins she shoved into the machine with angry slaps of her palm - the method not quite effective, silver and copper money raining down on the pavement. He watched as she punched the machine and read the curses that erupted from her mouth. Until his brain connected to his body again and he couldn’t watch anymore.

 

He burst out of the car and rushed towards her, not bothered in the least that his door was wide opened and gnawed on the one-way road, not bothered in the least that the keys were still on the ignition and that anyone could get behind the wheel and drive off. She was kneeling on the hard concrete, nails scraping against the pavement to try, in vain, to gather her fallen coins. 

  
  


“Rose,” he said softly, rolling an arm around her waist to help her up on her feet. “Rose, love, look at me. Please, look at me.”

  
  


She did. She stared at him, eyes so dark their whiskey colour looked like it had been mingled with diluted black ink, everything he could read into them making it quite clear it wasn’t sorrow rolling down her reddened cheeks. It was venom. Heavy drops of poison she would have gladly shot at him if she could. She snatched her arm out of his hold and went back to her machine, more coins bouncing at their feet.

  
  


“Rose,” he tried again, completely failing to understand where this sudden anger and spite was coming from, completely taken aback, completely and utterly  _ terrified _ . “Rose, please, talk to me.”

  
  


She spun on her feet with a growl of rage, threw the few coins she had left in her fist at his face, and he mindlessly had the reflex to cover his his head with the protective shield of his arms. She caught him off-guard, unaware, and gripped the lapels of his jacket so forcefully he heard one of the seam tear.

  
  


“How?” she almost shouted, shaking him with her little human arms as hard as she could - and he had to steal a glance around to make sure no one was witnessing the scene.

“How what, love?” he pressed, feeling his stomach heave with the anger she shot a him and his own anger spurred by his confusion. “How  _ what _ ?”

“How do you expect me to tell you I bloody love you after this?” she half-screamed in frustration, half-sobbed in despair. “How am I supposed to prove to you I love you? How the fuck can you believe anything of what I’m going to say if I can’t come up with stupid shit like you’re above perfection and all that crap about gods and handsome? How do you expect me to convince you what I feel is real if I can’t find the words? Huh?  _ How _ ?”

  
  


His anger was flicked out faster than a light at the end of a switch. He understood. He didn’t want to believe it, he couldn’t believe it, but the evidence was there. The pain, the fury, the hate. It was all there. He knew what to do. He caught her hands, winced when her sharp nails dug into his, ground his teeth when they left red tracks, blood gathering under his skin, but he didn’t let go. He waited until she gave up, until her arms fell still on her sides, until the tears she cried were tears of defeat, until her sobs dwindled down to quiet sniffs. Until she was ready to listen.

 

He spotted an empty bench near the entrance to the park just behind the meter and wrapped an arm around her shoulders before he led her to sit. He didn’t let go of her hand, shimmied as close to her as he could, pressed their foreheads tight together, searched her eyes with his own. It was easier to share feelings with this kind of close contact, and though he was perfectly aware she was in a position of weakness given her frail mental abilities, the situation called for more radical actions. He refused to lose his soulmate because of a mere complication. He had read about it, and while he knew it wouldn’t be easy, he knew how to fix it. He had to fix it. He flooded her mind with his unconditional love, soothed the harsh spikes of anger with murmurs of comfort, sent a protective wall of affection to shield her from the spears of hurt, submerged the mad swarm of negative emotions roaring to the very last layer of her mind under a deluge of warmth and consolation. Until she slumped against him and he could gather her weakened body against his chest, nestling her head against his clavicles and pressing soft kisses atop her blond hair.

  
  


“Alright?” he said softly, smiling at the way she clung to him and and sighed shakily in the crook of his neck. “I need you to listen to me, now, okay? Can you do that?”

“Sorry I screamed at you,” she apologized with another sniff, cuddling tighter against his body. “I don’t know what happened, I just… I’m sorry, Doctor.”

“Just tell me if you’re ready to listen, love. It’s all okay, I just need to know you’ll understand why you can’t be sorry. This is important, my love.”

“‘Kay, I’m listening,” she shrugged, gathering her legs under her despite the relative comfort of the hard bench.

“I’ll try to make it short,” he started - and took a deep breath as he tried hard to think of a way to make it clear and simple when it actually was all a giant mess of theories and beliefs. “Alright, I think I should have told you about this the moment we met to spare us that kind of event. It’s my own fault, I overlooked the fact that it could happen, and overlooked the fact that you’re human, which probably made it worse. We are soulmates. Except we appear to be the rare kind of soulmates. Well, just the fact that you’re human makes us the rarest kind of soulmates, really, but there’s another…  _ Odd  _ thing about us, it seems.”

“You do realize all of this is the oddest thing ever to me, right?” she chuckled, tickling the underside of his chin with the tip of his tie. “At least you already knew you had a soulmate and you already knew you weren’t alone in the universe. Probably makes it a bit easier, doesn’t it?”

“Quite right,” he smiled, poking her ribs in tender reprisal. “So, the  _ odd  _ thing. Soulmates are matched at birth based on their personalities, their interests, their dreams, their hopes, and basically who they will be at the moment they’ll meet. See, to make it clearer, if you’re into literature, there’s very little chance that your soulmate will be a scientific mind. Of course this kind of things doesn’t define who you are as a soulmate, but it’s just an reductive example.”

“Yeah, I get the point,” she shrugged - she understood the example but struggled to see here this was going. “So?”

“Sometimes, it happens. Sometimes, a writer will have a physicist as a soulmate. And this can cause some… Complications. A clash of interest, conflicting feelings, different ways to express emotions. It doesn’t mean they were wrongly matched. It just means they have to work harder to find their balance. As you already know, soulmates can share their minds. They can feed on each other’s thoughts and feelings, and well… It happens that a soulmate can overreact to them if they’re too different. When you have a soulmate, you love them to the end of the universe and back. It makes it all the more difficult to accept the other simply have a different way to communicate that love, and sometimes… Well, sometimes, some can feel like they’re not enough, or like they don’t deserve their soulmates.”

“Well, I sure as Hell don’t deserve you, so there must be some truth to that,” she sighed - and he had to try really hard not to let her sudden dejection overwhelm him.

“That’s exactly the kind of dangerous thought I forbid you to have, my love,” he said, voice soft but firm. “You deserve all of me. See, what happened just now, it was just your frustration ramping up into anger, because our minds belong to each other and yours isn't much into all the rubbish metaphors my stupid brain comes up with. It wasn’t you that was angry. It was your soul. It’s still learning how to communicate with mine, because they’re different. We’re different. Like two puzzle pieces that are supposed to match but one of them is turned upside down. Eventually, we’ll find a way to make it work.”

“I loved your rubbish metaphors,” she half-smiled, tracing up the ridges on the column of his throat with a fingertip. “You’re good with words, Doctor. Those were the most beautiful things anyone ever told me.”

“Yes, well, no one thought I was good with words at the Academy,” he admitted after he kissed the inside of her finger when it reached his mouth. “They all said it was… Pointless. Made fun of me because I was just a sentimental who liked to write poems and proses. A stupid boy who was in love with a soulmate that didn’t exist, a silly young orphan who dreamt about love and happiness he had never been given. See, that’s the difference between us, Rose. I’ve had more than four hundred years to think about you and dream about you, and learn to love you. You… You didn’t really know I existed until we properly met, and everytime you thought of me nothing went right for you. I’ve turned soft, and you’ve grown fierce. I knew I’d find you, you didn’t. You had to protect yourself and your feelings. You had to be strong. I just… I let my everything love you and I hurt you. My love almost killed you, and still, you’re here, next to me. You’re tough, tougher than I’ll ever be and it might be harder for you to express your feelings. But I don’t need your metaphors, Rose. I speak louder with my mouth. You speak just as loud with this,” he pressed a palm over the swell of her left breast, smiled at the feel of the watch she was still wearing, “and this,” he pressed his lips on her temple, sighed at the fury of love and affection he felt sizzling in the depth of her mind. “I don’t need fancy words. Tell me you love me, I’ll believe you. Say nothing, and I’ll still believe you. Because I feel you, and that’s the only truth I need.”

“God, you do have a gob, Doctor,” she giggled, wiping her cheeks with the back of her sleeve. “Will it… Will it happen again? That I’ll feel I hate you, or that no matter how much I love you it’ll never be enough?”

“Probably,” he nodded as he tucked few strands of blond hair behind her ear. “But now you know why it happens. We’re the odd ones out. We’re special.”

“Good special?”

“The best kind of special, my Hulis. We’re soulmates. I love you, nothing you’ll ever say or do will change that.”

“I love you too, you know,” she said softly, almost shyly, still a bit scared those words wouldn’t be enough. “I still don’t know why, but I really do. I feel it. I do.”

“I know. Come here, my love. It’s okay. I know.”

  
  


He drew her into a tight hug, arms tight around her body, lips soft in the crook of her neck, murmurs of comfort warm against her skin. He had to wait just a few seconds too long to his liking, but she eventually locked her fingers in the middle of his back, nestled her cheek over his shoulder, answered with whispers of her own.

 

He should have seen it coming, and he hadn't. He should have known his Rose was different. He should have seen she was even more special that he had first believed, and he hadn’t. He should have understood the way she loved him was so deeply anchored in her soul and buried under layers of steel and walls of stone she would struggle to get it out. It was only natural, after everything he had put her through. It was very  _ human _ , in its own way. He would need to let her learn to love him at her own pace and stop drowning her with his own love. Slow, slower. They didn’t need to rush their feelings. He suddenly thought of the word, the human word he loathed, the human word that had no translation in either dialect of Gallifreyan, the human word that meant nothing for a soulmate.  _ Date _ . Maybe they’d have to go backwards. They knew they loved each other. Maybe they’d have to find out why. 

 

He gently pulled aways from her, cupped her cheeks and kissed her lips.

  
  


“How about we go eat lunch somewhere nice?” he offered softly, hoping that would be a good start. “Anywhere you like, anything you want.”

“I’m in dire need of chips,” she answered through a shaky chuckle. “We could head back towards my flat, there’s this chippy down the street and it’s  _ fab _ .”

“Okay, let me invite you, then. Sorry you’ll have to drive, but...Well, you get the point of it.”

“Are you taking me on a  _ date _ , Doctor?” she giggled, playfully nudging his hip as they made their way back to their car - which was, thank the deities, still parked on the side of the sidewalk.

“Why, is that premature, you think? Should I send you a card or flowers, first?”

“Oh, shut up, you plonker. Now hop on, if snog me again I’ll let you release the handbrake.”

  
  


He refused to snog her, and sod the handbrake, too scared he would make a fool of himself again. He knew there would be plenty of opportunities to snog later, when they’d both sleep in the same bed on the Tardis.  _ Take it slow _ .

 

* * *

 


	16. Alonso

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone!
> 
> Another update today, a bit shorter than the two others I posted over the weekend, but I didn't feel more needed to be said!  
> Last stop before Caradon and its mountains of fluff!
> 
> I hope you'll enjoy it, and thank you to all the new readers! :)

* * *

 

 

The door of the Tardis creaked open, and he stepped out into a bright street overflowed with a scorching summer sun. He could hear the laughs and the shouts in the distance, and he knew his ship had landed right where he needed to be. He carefully locked the door behind him and walked towards the source of the merry cacophony, glad he had left his long trench coat behind - his cold body did a poor job at resisting the waves of heat under all the layers of his human clothes, and he even had to loosen his tie that felt too tight around his neck. 

 

The school wasn’t much different from the one he had seen on his first visit to Earth. A large playground surrounded by small concrete building, a set of rudimentary football goals, a few basketball hoops, a sandbox with colourful plastic buckets, rakes and shovels, a lost ball stuck in the branches of a large tree. But this time, the playground was crowded with small kids, running, playing, talking, quarrelling over marbles and card games. He found it oddly satisfying to see so many children enjoying the sun without having to worry about grades and exams. Satisfying, and just a bit sad. It made him wish he had enjoyed his childhood instead of studying so hard, spent time with friends instead of locking himself away, learnt how it felt to do  _ nothing  _ instead of always busying his brain with homework and lessons and papers. Always alone, always with a piece of paper in one hand and his quill in the other. He felt like he had missed something. Not like he could change any of it now, anyway. Not even that he would want to, given where all of that had led him.

 

He pulled on the handle of the yellow gate and took a few steps into the playground, observing his surroundings to find the one kid he was looking for. There he was. Alone, under the shade of tree, cross-legged in front of a battlefield of tiny toy soldiers. He didn’t seem much interested by the little green men, however, but enthralled by the book opened over his lap. Maybe they weren’t that different, in the end. He surprised himself when he thought he could actually like him. A lone, clever little soul that would protect his Rose and care about her. He couldn’t ask for much more. 

  
  


“Excuse-me, who are you?”

  
  


He spun on his heels to face a young lady that mustn’t have been more than twenty-five, a badge with the school emblem around her neck, gauging him from head to toe with a suspicious look. He was quick to take out his leather wallet from inside his pocket and presented the small square of white paper. Thank the Illusionist who came up with the wonderful invention that was psychic paper.

  
  


“Child protection services,” he introduced himself, thinking it would be rather in character to shake her hand. “I’m here to see Mickey Smith?”

“Forgive my asking, but… Why?”

“Routine check, nothing to worry about, everything is fine,” he hurried to reassure her with a smile, shoving his wallet back in his pocket. “Unless you have anything to report?”

“Nothing that I know of,” she shrugged, sneaking a peek at the small boy. “He’s a good kid, quiet, clever. His parents died a couple of years ago, his grand-mother is raising him now. Never had any trouble with him, except that one time he got into a fight over a doll.”

“A doll?” he raised a questioning eyebrow.

“One of our year six stole a doll from his best friend, he tried to take it back. Didn’t end well, we had to take him to the hospital for a minor concussion. One of your colleagues came to make sure the school rules and staff were appropriate and that was it.”

“I see,” he nodded - and he was finding out he was growing rather fond of the kid, if his intuition that the best friend in question was Rose was right. “Would you mind if I had a quick chat with him?”

“Not at all, go ahead. Mind you, you might not get much from him. Like I told you, he’s quiet.”

“I don’t need him to speak, I need him to listen,” he simply said, already strutting off in the direction of the boy. 

  
  


He sat opposite the kid in quite the same fashion, cross-legged, and took one of the green toy soldier in his hand. Funny, he thought, how humans had always been fascinated by war and violence, and made it look like a simple game to kids who weren’t even ten yet. He wondered for a moment if the planet was shaken by so many wars because children were taught as soon as they could read about it how important it was to protect their country, even if that meant killing their neighbours. If they stopped thinking war was the only solution to attain some kind of ideal peace, maybe Earth would be a much quieter planet. If they understood peace couldn’t be achieved through more conflicts and pain and death, maybe Earth would be a much better planet. Humans had always fascinated him, but this was one aspect of the species he struggled to understand, even more so to accept. Well, they would realize soon enough they needed peace to fight bigger wars, against bigger enemies.

 

He placed the soldier in the crook of his palm and shoved it under his snub nose with a bright smile.

  
  


“What’s his name?” he asked, realigning a piece of the plastic gun that was oddly curved.

  
  


He was only answered with a scowl, an annoyed roll of his dark eyes, and the boy went back to his book.

  
  


“No name, then,” he nodded at the toy, as if the plastic man would answer. “That’s alright, we’ll find you one. What are you reading? Just finished the  _ Very Hungry Caterpillar _ myself, excellent book, shame I read it in forty seconds. Best forty seconds of my life, though. So, what’s yours? Is it any good?”

  
  


The boy only lifted his book so he could read the title, but didn’t do much more than keep his eyes firmly glued to the page and ignore his question with the kind of upset silence only kids could muster with so much brio. He beamed at the kid who hadn’t looked at him once and clapped his hands in fake excitement.

  
  


“ _ Marlon Bundo _ , now, that’s a cool bunny,” he agreed, poking the drawing on the front cover with a fingertip. “Bet you three candy bars I can give you an even cooler bunny right now, what do you say?”

  
  


Not that he was expecting any answer, but he still was relieved to see just a tinge of interest in the shrug that raised his small shoulders buried under thin-striped tee-shirt sleeves that were twice too large for his tiny body. Knowing he was treading on the right path, he reached into his inside pocket and took out several rubber worms, a rainbow of colours he held between his fingers and let dangle in front of his eyes, hoping to catch his attention like a cat with a plush mouse.

  
  


“Which one?” he asked - and he smiled even more brightly when he noticed the boy was now stealing glances at what he was doing. “No, don’t tell me. Blue. I can see it in your eyes, you like the blue one best. Alright, let’s see. Hope I’m not too rusty, wouldn’t want to lose the only bars I have left, would I? Okay, let me try.”

  
  


He let all his balloons rain over the bunch of plastic soldiers, only keeping the bright blue one in his hand. He hoped he would remember how to do it. He had read about it once in one of his books about human activities children liked around the twentieth century - it might have been a bit outdated, but he was sure animal balloons would always be a safe bet to amuse kids, or at the very least not kill them with boredom. They didn’t have such wonderful inventions on Gallifrey, the closest thing he remembered from his childhood was the water bombs they made with the bag-like leaves of the Judg trees. It rarely worked, was amusing for hardly more than two minutes, and most of the times they were even forbidden to play such games on the main square of the Citadel anyway. Hopefully, Mickey was one of those who enjoyed simple pleasures like… Balloon bunnies.

 

He blew hard into his balloon, biting his teeth into the rubber to keep the air in as he grinned at the kid who was now watching with rapt attention. He made quite a show of it - he couldn’t risk losing the precarious focus he had managed to get from him, and loudly snapped the knot, poked his nose with the tip of the balloon and carefully rolled his sleeves up to his elbows, exaggerated moves and half-serious clearings of his throat. 

  
  


“Now, moment of truth, my friend,” he announced before he started to twist the balloon around. “Hope you’re ready to lose.”

  
  


He contorted his rubber sausage, sprained its ends, wrung it in his hands like he would have done to squeeze water out of a towel, the plastic squeaking in protest and the balls of air threatening to burst a each screw of his wrist. He was almost scared it would eventually explode to shreds and ruin his efforts - he was now as enthralled by what he was doing than he had been moments before by his book, but after a whole minute of humming his breath and torturing the balloon, he ended up with a good enough looking bunny, two long ears, an oddly geometric body, and a smaller ball on the end as a tail. He was rather pleased by the sculpture he was holding, and even more pleased when the boy reached out for it and hugged it close to his chest with a delighted giggle.

  
  


“I suppose I win, then?” he chuckled, picking up another balloon from his stack. “Tell me, what would Rose like? Cat, dog, another bunny?”

  
  


He nibbled his lower lip, unsure or uneasy, fiddling with the tail of his balloon rabbit. He encouraged him with another smile and bent forward to stick his ear close to his mouth, cupped it with his hand and winked, as if he wanted to show him he could confide in him.

  
  


“She likes lions,” Mickey mumbled, voice barely above a whisper, his small fingers clenching just a bit tighter around the inflated rubber.

“Lions, of course she does,” he laughed before he blew into a red balloon and readied a yellow one over his thigh. “Tell you what, we’ll make a cat with a mane, because I can’t do lions. How does that sound? Good?”

“I suppose,” Mickey shrugged as he started to twist his red balloon. “Lions are just big cats, anyway.”

“Anyone ever told you you’re a clever little boy?” he praised with a grin, setting his newly sculpted cat on the side so he could start working on his yellow mane.

“I’m not little, I’m almost eight.”

“Right, sorry. So, Mickey, tell me what’s that story about the silly boy who stole Rose’s doll?”

“It’s Lannion, he’s stupid,” he said, scrunching up his nose. “He told Rose she’s too old to play with dolls, an’ I told him he’s wrong. Rose was crying, ‘cause she just has that one doll. Jackie’s not got lots of money, you know, and Rose, well, she doesn’t have many toys. I lend her mine sometimes, but she doesn’t really like them.”

“So you tried to get the doll back, didn’t you?” he asked as he tried to ignore what the boy’s words implied.

“Rose’s my best friend, ‘course I tried. But… He punched me in the face and broke the doll. But look.”

  
  


He watched as the boy rummaged through his small backpack that didn’t hold much more than an apple that had seen better days, a worn notebook and a crushed carton of orange juice. He took out a tiny money purse printed with cartoonish drawings, and it jingled softly as he pulled on the zip. He poured the few coins in the crook of his palm, a ridiculous amount that couldn’t even cover his child’s hand.

  
  


“Do you think I have enough to buy her a new one?” Mickey asked, looking at him with innocent hope that had his stomach twist tighter than any of his balloons. “I keep the money my gran gives me to buy milk at break time, but I know it’s not much.”

  
  


He took a moment to flip the coins over in his hand and pretend he was counting, when he only used those precious seconds to swallow a ball that grew in his throat and had not a single clue on what it was or why it was even growing at all. 

  
  


“Let’s make a deal, Mickey, okay?” he started, searching through his pocket to find a banknote he folded tight enough to fit into the miniature purse. “With this, you’ll have enough to buy her two dolls, maybe three. But I want you to do something for me.”

“I’m seven,” he sighed as he stared dejectedly at the money he thought he wouldn’t get. “Can’t do anything for a big person like you.”

“I think you can.”

  
  


He picked up the soldier he had abandoned on the back of the book and held it between his fingers, just before his eyes.

  
  


“See, I know Rose is you best friend,” he started, careful to choose words a seven-year old boy, not matter how clever, would understand. “And I know you want to protect her, right? Well, look. This is Alonso, and he’s a soldier. His mission is to protect people, and he can protect Rose, too. I want you to keep it with you, all the time. Leave him in your pocket and find him when you need him.”

“It’s a toy, Sir,” he pointed out, awkwardly matter-of-fact for a boy of that age. “The best it can do is poke someone in the eye. If you’re lucky.”

“I know. But whenever you or Rose are in trouble, I want you to look at Alonso and remember this. It’s not safe to fight boys that are stronger than you, even if you know what they did is wrong. Was it worth it, to get punched in the face by Lannion?”

“I… Guess not. He still broke the doll.”

“See? You tried to protect Rose by using violence, and both of you got hurt anyway. Alonso will protect you, because he will remind you what you need to do to keep Rose safe. Be better than your enemies. Be smarter. Be kinder. Rose needs you, Mickey. She will always need you, no matter what happens. Remember this. Someday, you’re gonna need to protect Rose just by being there for her. You’ll find Alonso in your pocket and you’ll remember Rose needs you. You’ll remember you love Rose, and Rose loves you. Don’t  _ eww  _ me, Mickey, I promise you’ll understand when you’re older. Got that?”

“I think so,” he shrugged, taking the toy soldier from his hand to shove it in the pocket of his shorts.

“Repeat.”

“Don’t fight bigger boys, even if it’s to protect Rose, because Rose needs me.”

“Quite right, Rose needs you. She will  _ always  _ need you.”

“I need her too, y’know,” he admitted through an almost embarrassed breath. “I mean, she’s my best mate.”

“I know, Mickey. That’s why you need to keep Alonso at all times, for as long as you can. Now one last thing. I’m going to make another bunny, and you’re going to sign it for me, is that okay?”

“Like, an autograph or something?”

“Exactly, an autograph. Alright?”

“Okay.”

  
  


***

  
  


The tip of his shoe tapped impatiently against the pale concrete of the garage entrance, his green balloon tucked under his arm. It wouldn’t be long before Mickey would come out of that rusted door, and his hearts beat just a breadth faster as the time approached. He hoped his plan had worked - it was always rather tricky to meddle with a timeline, no matter how small the change - and he hoped he would change his mind. The little boy he once had been was smart, sensible and kind. Hopefully, he hadn’t changed much.

 

He stared at all the luxurious coupés on display in front of the garage, but the thrill he had felt when Rose had taken him around the city in the modest rental car was gone, replaced by disinterest he was sure sprouted from the root of his anxiety. He felt like it had been an eternity before when he had met Mickey for the first time, when it was just under seven hours. Maybe he would still be too angry to talk. Maybe he would still feel too hurt to forgive. Maybe he would still be too doubtful to accept. But he had to try and make him believe. He had to fix the friendship he shared with Rose.

 

He jumped when the door jerked open and the young man burst out of the small office, leather jacket shrugged over his back and navy backpack slung over a shoulder. Nothing like the tiny seven year-old kid he had met mere minutes before. 

  
  


“Hello again, Mickey,” he greeted him when he saw him walk past him without a single look - that didn’t stop him in his course, so he had to try something else. “How’s Alonso doing? Still in your pocket, like I asked you?”

  
  


That managed to stop him in his tracks much better than a simple greeting, and he watched as Mickey slowly turned on his heels to glare at him, shallow incomprehension drawn over his hard features. And then, he noticed the balloon bunny, huge black letters written across an ear that read his name. His name, he had once written on the same balloon in primary school, when a funny man had come to talk to him, sculpted a few rubber animals for him and even gave him some money. The same funny man that was standing before him. Mickey visibly swallowed and patted his pocket, unable to believe the small item that was shaped under the leather. He feverishly shoved his hand in his pocket and blanched imperceptibly when his fingers met the cold plastic. A toy soldier, not as green as it used to be, half the gun missing, the base split in its middle. Alonso.

  
  


“I don’t want you to trust me, Mickey,” he offered softly, handing him the balloon on which the black ink hadn’t completely dried yet. “I just want you to trust her. Rose loves you dearly, and she was really upset when you left this morning. She didn’t lie. Neither did I. If you don’t have enough proof with that bunny and that toy, I could ask you if you ever gave her the cat-lion, and if you managed to buy her the dolls. And if that isn’t enough to convince you that I am a Time Lord, and that I’m just back from a small school not far from the Powell Estate, where I met a small boy who was sad a bully had broken his best friend’s doll, then I can take you to my ship.”

“I gave her the cat,” he whispered, low, so low his voice didn’t fly past the confine of his mouth.

“Pardon?”

“I gave her the cat,” he repeated a bit more audibly, taking the bunny from his hands. “I went to the toy shop after school, stopped by her flat and gave her the cat and the dolls. Stupid mermaid Barbies, she was over the Moon. How did you do any of this? How could you be there and here, now, at the same time?”

“I’m a Time Lord,” he said again, keeping his composure as he knew it could be hard to understand for a mundane human such as Mickey. “I have a ship, and I travel through time and space. It’s right around the corner, if you want to take a look yourself. I went back in time to meet a Mickey that would hear what I had to say. I know it’ll take more than a balloon today, but I was hoping you’d remember what I told you when I put you in charge of Alonso fifteen years ago. I know that’s a long time, but try to remember.”

“Rose will always needs me, no matter what happens,” he recited, the words somehow still fresh in his mind. “Who… Who the fuck are you?”

“I’m the Doctor, and I’m the one who will do anything and everything for her. She’s my soulmate, whether you like it or not, and nothing will ever tear us apart. But just because she has me now doesn’t mean she doesn’t need you anymore. I want her happiness, and she can’t be happy without you. Come with me. Let me prove it to you. I’m not expecting you to believe. In a way, Rose still doesn’t really believe it herself. But you have to trust her, like she trusts me. Let me show you, Mickey. Please.”

  
  


***

  
  


She was already ready to go when the screeching bell announced the end of the lesson, and she dashed out of the auditorium before anyone would get a chance to stop her, before all the others would also leave and she’d have to fight her way through crowds of students. She didn’t think she had ever felt more excited, so much she could only hope her heart would survive its wild and powerful beat. She was about to go into space. In a spaceship. With him. Visit another planet, go where no one had ever gone before, where no one would ever even consider going. Space. Real space, not the one she’d been mindlessly scribbling about during her lesson, not the one she had only ever seen in books or on television, not the one she had been dreaming about for the better part of her life. Real space. All of space, all of time, one ride away in his Tardis. Nothing could make her any happier. Except maybe the man waiting for her, leaning against one of the column of stones framing the door.

 

Her run slowed to shy steps, her bright smile faded to a tiny quivering one, her joy dwindled down to a flicker of hope. Her heart beat just a bit harder, just a bit faster. She didn’t know what he was doing there, couldn’t decipher the expression sketched over his face, couldn’t decide if she should be relieved or scared. And then she remembered.  _ I promise, I’ll bring him back _ . He had.

 

He smiled when he saw her walking through the door - hesitant, and perhaps just a little forced, but he smiled.

  
  


“Hey, princess,” Mickey greeted her, offering a hand she was quick to take. “Fancy a drink?”

  
  


She simply laughed and imprisoned him in a tight hug that squeezed a giggle out of his crushed lungs. Her best friend was back.

 

* * *

 


	17. Caradon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone!
> 
> Finally, a new chapter for this Soulmate AU, last one before Cara-sexytimes-don!
> 
> You might find the beginning of this chapter weird, but I wanted to add some "real" to it (if "real" even has a meaning when it comes to this work). You know, make it feel true to what the characters would think or do. 
> 
> Anyway, without further ado, enjoy your reading, and I hope you will enjoy it!
> 
> Thank you very much to all my readers!

* * *

 

 

He couldn’t decide if that woman was enjoying herself or if she was hurting. It did look rather violent, some kind of brawl between wild animals, and while he knew humans could be beastly on some aspects of their behaviours, he would have guessed that particular thing would be more romantic, more tender, that there would be more love and less anger. It most certainly didn’t illustrate what he had read in the pile of books stacked next to his screen, but then again, those books could have been outdated, when the video he was watching has been posted a mere hours before. It could just be that the practice evolved rapidly, or it could just be that facts were somehow altered in the texts. But if this was the real thing, he wasn’t sure he’d like it much, wasn’t even sure he’d want to try. No way he’d pull on her hair or bruise her skin, just for something that was supposedly pleasurable but only seemed to border on painful. He’d have to ask her. If that was what she’d want, he wouldn’t refuse, but if he were entirely honest with himself, he would rather they never did something of the like.

 

Especially since he knew she would hurt, no matter how careful and gentle he’d be. Just the first time, or so he had learnt in his encyclopedia, but still. From everything he had gathered about human biology and his personal observations, he wasn’t much different from a human male. Maybe a bit… Bigger. Thicker. Not by much, but just enough to worry it would only make it all worse when -  _ if  _ \- they engaged on that slippery slope. On the practical side, he now knew he wouldn’t have to worry about much more than that. Well, that and the embarrassment that would probably strike him dead, his inability to do things right and his complete lack of initiative. He could only count on her, and on his instincts he prayed would finally decide to show up at the right time. At least, he knew about the theory. That was good. Better than shoving down his pants and wonder what to do with his penis. He fell prey to these erections much too often to his liking and he couldn’t deny it’s be nice if he managed to teach his body it wasn’t always appropriate to advertise his arousal so obviously. Even nicer if he could release that tension with her, through the natural and enjoyable path, rather than always willing his body to relax when his loins were swimming in a warm cocktail of love and desire.  _ Damn his species for never talking about that kind of things. _

  
  


“Doctor?”

  
  


Her voice came muffled, just behind the door, and a wave of panic rushed through his veins. He hurried to turn his screen off, hoping she didn’t hear the sounds coming from the speakers, pulled his drawer open to swipe the column of books inside and slammed it close just as she opened the door.

  
  


“Ah, there you are,” she smiled, dropping her backpack on the carpet before she joined him to sit on his lap. “What were you up… Oh.”

“Oh what?” he raised an eyebrow - he was quite sure his body was perfectly fine and wouldn’t betray him, apart from the light blush on his cheeks and his twisting stomach.

  
  


He followed her amused glance to the box of condoms on obvious display at the corner of his desk - things he knew they wouldn’t necessarily need, but that he had bought nonetheless in case it would made her feel more secure. He almost wanted to snatch the box and shove it away in his pocket, but she had seen it. No use hiding it. He simply shrugged it off and pretended he wasn’t on the verge of drowning in his discomfiture.

  
  


“I just thought it might be good to have a few of those close at hand,” he offered as an explanation, hugging her from behind and planting a kiss on the nape of her neck. “For, you know, later. Not that we need them, because we don’t have to worry about diseases and we’ll only be ably to make babies when we’re bonded, but I thought… Well, I didn’t know what you’d want, so I figured it wouldn’t hurt to buy some. Is that… Alright? 

“You’re amazing, Doctor,” she answered softly, shifting around in his arms to wrap her own around his neck. “I thought about it too, you know. Never felt that way before, and it’s rather… Exciting.”

“Aren’t you scared I’m going to, er, hurt you?” he asked, genuinely surprised she apprehended the whole thing so casually when he was sure humans considered it to be a important and intimidating moment. “Or nervous?”

“Why would I be?” she smiled, pressing her lips on the tip of his nose. “It’s you, my Doctor. You make me feel so… Loved. Safe. I’m not scared. I’m not nervous. I feel ready. Ready when you are, that is, I don’t mean ready, as in right now. Whenever the time is right, just know… You won’t have to ask. I trust you, yeah?”

“Right, yes, of course,” he nodded, suddenly much more relaxed - if she saw the whole thing under that light, he couldn't think of a reason why he should see it under a different one. “I just… Would you mind if I asked you some questions?”

“I’m not sure I can answer them, but shoot.”

“I’ve watched… Some humans videos, and I don’t really… Like what I saw.”

“You’ve watched porn, haven't you?” she giggled, purposefully glancing at the screen. “If there's one thing I know when it comes to sex, it's don't trust the Internet. It’s not the real thing, Doctor. Just actors. What they do is not how it happens. I mean, it can happen of course, depends on what you’re into, but… We should keep it simple for the first time, yeah? Just do what feels natural, what feels good. No use climbing up the curtains and breaking the bed, if you get my meaning.”

“There are no curtains in the Tardis,” he pointed out - he obviously didn’t get the meaning, still unacquainted with metaphors and images. “And my bed is rather robust, Iohn wood, even Judoons wouldn’t break it. But okay. Good. Natural. Simple. Will you tell me if I do anything wrong? What if you don’t like any of it, will you tell me so stop? What if I don’t like it, can I tell you that? What if it doesn’t work?”

“Doctor, I think you’re overthinking this,” she smiled, cutting through his questions with a soft kiss on his lips. “When the time comes, you won’t lose your tongue, and I won’t lose mine. Just because you’re naked doesn’t mean you can’t communicate, alright? I’ll tell you everything, and you can tell me anything, anything at all. I just… Don’t want to plan it all to the smallest detail. I want to live it. Really live it, not follow steps and stick to conventions. Unless… Unless, I don’t know, you’d feel better if…”

“No,” he shook his head, lacing his fingers between her. “No, you’re right. Let it just happen. It’s us, and we’re perfect. We can make it work.”

“Of course, we can. So, let’s leave this behind us for now. What’s the plan, now?”

“Oh, um… How about… You pilot yourself into space?”

  
  


She gaped at his proud grin and gasped when he suddenly sprung to his feet, bringing her up along him before he pulled on her hand and lead her through the corridors to the console room.

  
  


“Doctor, I’m not driving your Tardis,” she protested a he planted his hands on her hips and positioned her in front of a panel. “Car, yes, spaceship, no.”

“Good thing you can’t drive a spaceship,” he smirked, reaching above her shoulder to pull a screen down before their eyes. “You can, however,  _ pilot  _ a spaceship. You wanted to see Earth, right?”

“Yes, but…”

“Okay, let’s see, then.”

  
  


He moulded his chest against her back, smiling fondly at the almost imperceptible stiffening of her body, and gently picked her right hand to wrap her fingers around a globe. He placed her left on a lever, pressed a few buttons on the panel, flicked a switch, entered a series of number on a keypad, and his hands joined hers over the commands.

  
  


“Now, slowly…” he murmured, guiding her movements and readjusting her hold. 

  
  


She shivered when the time rotor started to glow, when the tubes jailed into the column of glass started to rise and fall, when a low rumble turned to a high-pitched wheeze. Her heart was beating hard against her chest, her fingers trembling and getting clammy, but her anxiety was soon smothered by the comforting thoughts he breathed into her mind, by the reassuring waves the ship sent through her veins. He accompanied her fingers, pressed down on her wrist and pushed her knuckles, brushed his thumb over her joints and his lips over the side of her neck, keeping his eyes on the screen to make sure they were following the right course. 

  
  


“Very good,” he praised through a proud whisper - a whisper that had her arm jerk and her fingers clench around the globe. “Ah, now you’ve sent us crashing against the Moon.”

“Oh God, I’m sorry,” she apologized, trying to let go of the commands. “I really shouldn’t…”

“You’re doing fine, love. We’re almost there. See, we’re in space already.”

  
  


He pointed his chin at the screen, and she spotted the blinking spot between a large circle and a smaller one. Earth, and the Moon. She wouldn’t believe they were that little dot until she had solid and valid proof. It made no sense. The grating under her feet had barely trembled, nothing had moved, everything felt the same. Same gravity, same air, same temperature. Surely, if they were in space, she would be colder, the atmosphere would be heavier, she would feel lighter. This was supposed to be a spaceship flying through space, not a bus ride to the corner of her street. Surely, it should be different. But it wasn’t.

  
  


“The Tardis makes sure to keep a healthy environment for you,” he justified, as if he had read her thoughts and felt her doubt. “But I promise we’re in space. We just need to find the right spot, which should be…”

  
  


He squeezed her fingers over the globe a bit tighter, rolled it just a few millimeters to the right, lowered the lever so lightly she didn’t even feel it move, and he released her hands, not without letting his fingers caress her skin.

  
  


“There we are,” he announced softly, tapping his index on the blinking dot. “Space. The best spot to watch Earth from above. Come with me?”

“I have a feeling the door is going to open on the same street,” she grinned as he locked his elbow around hers and led her to the door. “I mean, it has to be a joke, right? The farther I want from home was Cardiff. On a school trip. An it took us nine hours. And now I’m in space and it took us, what, two minutes? That’s just… Impossible. But alright. Show me I’m wrong, Doctor.”

“Why don’t you open the door yourself, love?”

  
  


Her hand flew to the handle, ready to pull it open without a single second of hesitation, just for the pleasure to taunt him about his bad sense of humour as she’d step onto the wet pavement where the Tardis was parked. But then she saw his eyes. An encouraging look and a small smile, eyebrows standing high on his forehead. His arm, wrapped around her waist, tight and safe, his other hand holding the railing, as if he was really scared she would tumble down into the immensity of space and wanted to be ready to pull her back. And she felt the ship giggle into the nape of her neck and the handle quiver between her fingers, as if it were impatient to be pulled. Space. Behind that door.

 

She gulped down the sudden ball of excitement and fear that grew in her throat, and she pulled the door open. Just a little at first. She pricked her ear to hear the roar of cars in the distance, to listen to the passers-by talk, to smell the fragrance of wet concrete and of greasy chips. Nothing. Not a sound, not a smell. Just a heavy silence only perturbed by the quiet purr of the ship’s engines and the blood rushing in her ears. She felt the cold seep through the interstice. Not too cold, just a delicate breeze that had gooseflesh spread over the skin of her arms. Space. Behind that door.

 

Slowly, very slowly, she pulled on the handle. And she was glad he was standing there beside her to prevent a fall that would have killed her - and if she didn’t die falling, she was quite sure she would die of a stroke. She stopped breathing, her heart stopped beating. And she looked. She looked at the planet that floated before her, lost in an ocean of impenetrable black, perfectly framed through the door. Shapes of blue, green and brown peeking from behind swirls of white clouds, contained into that tiny circle - or was it a giant ball, she couldn’t be sure, the proportions looked rather awkward from where she was standing. Earth. From space. 

 

That picture she had only ever seen in books or on television was there. She reached out with a hand, just to make sure this wasn’t some kind of hyperrealistic painting hanging behind the door, but it only met thick air. Thick space air. With Earth in the background, taking its lazy stroll around the Sun, slowly turning around its axis. Her planet. Space.

 

She jumped when he hugged her tighter from behind and started to rock her gently in the comfortable nest of his arms. It was then that she realized her shoulders were shakings with the sobs she was trying to conceal. She was so amazed, so startled, so bewildered. Nothing could have prepared her for the wonderful and tremendously exciting sight. She was where everyone wanted to be, at least once in their life. Where no one had ever stood before, where no one ever would again. All thanks to the perfect man who was kissing her neck and brushing her tears away with tender swipes of his thumb over her cheeks. If love could be measured, the love she felt for him in than moment surpassed the size of that majestic square of space spreading before her eyes. Endless. Everlasting. He was a blessing that only graced her with more blessings. She wished she could put words on what she was feeling with as much ease and beauty as he could, but she remembered. He would understand. He would know.

  
  


“I love you,” she whispered, finding his fingers to press them down, hard, against her sternum. “Doctor… Seeing this… How did you ever want to come find me? You have… All of this. I could sit here for the rest of my days and die happy. And you can see all of it. All of the universe.”

“I love you more than I love the universe, my Hulis,” he smiled against her skin, thrilled to feel her enchantment. “It wouldn’t look the same if you weren’t here. What good are stars and planets if you’re not here to watch them with me? I’ve never seen the universe, you know. I’ve seen Earth, once, the first time I came to you, just to see the planet I had dreamt about so very often. I kept the rest. I want to discover it all with you, Rose. If you want it, too. I know it matters to you that you get your diploma. But once you have it… You could come with me. See everything. Visit every planet and observe every star. Visit everyone, meet every species. Live with me. Live among the stars.”

“I could… See this everyday?” she asked, unable to detach her eyes from the rapture the whole scenery was, as if it would disappear should she but blink.

“Whenever you want, at any time. Just ask. I can take you anywhere and everywhere you want, Rose. Everywhere. Anytime”

“Where do  _ you  _ want to go?”

“I mentioned Caradon earlier, didn’t I?” he said softly as she finally dared to look away from the planet and searched his eyes. “I would like that. Caradon. Unless you really want to do Oxford first, of course.”

“Show me, Doctor,” she murmured, hugging him briefly, but tightly. “Caradon. Show me. Please.”

“Okay, Caradon it is,” he nodded as he answered her hug with a kiss on the top of her head. “I’m afraid I have to pilot this time, because we need to land at a very precise point. We don’t want to, huh…”

“Don’t want to what?”

“Land in a tree,” he lied through a grin, striding back to the console with a renewed energy. “Plenty of trees on Caradon, big forests, small trees, tiny bushes. Looks fabulous, especially when… You know what, we’ll see when we’re there. Just let me… I forgot something, stay here, don’t touch anything.”

  
  


She watched as he broke into a strut towards the corridor, disappeared for a minute, then reappeared, fighting to shove a small piece of fabric in his pocket. He didn’t answer the silent question that came with the twitch of her eyebrow and settled behind the commands, cracked his knuckles and spurred his ship into motion again. The same, odd wheeze echoed through the whole room, from the grating to the ceiling, just for a few seconds long enough for her to wonder how such a magical feat could ever be possible, and then it stopped. He clapped his hands together excitedly and hurried to join her by the door, twining their fingers together, a big smile painted over his features.

  
  


“Go on, open it,” he said, nodding at the door. “I hope you’ll like it. Took me fifty-two journeys to find the perfect spot. Not to influence your opinion, obviously, but… Well, just open it, love.”

  
  


She did. And she stopped breathing all over again, squeezed his hand and took a shy step outside. Before her, a narrow path opened, sided with pear shaped tree that struggled to reach her own height, tiny balls that looked like shiny blueberries hovering silently over the leaves.The sky was a deep black canvas dotted with little white stars, sparkling diamonds that looked so close and so real she almost reached out to pick one between her fingers. Night had already fallen on this planet. Maybe this planet never saw the light of day at all. But it wasn’t dark. Dozens and dozens of little paper lanterns were hanging from the small branches, the quiver of their flames casting hypnotising shadows all around. The lanterns led to a square of orange grass, not far away, where more lanterns were pinned around a spread. A basket, a bucket with a bottle, pillows, covers. She couldn’t be sure, but that must have been a red rose sticking out from the wicker basket.

  
  


“Oh my God, Doctor,” she breathed out, cupping her palm under the closest lantern, staring at everything around her to make sure she had seen everything and would remember everything. “Is that…?”

  
  


He shuffled awkwardly on the balls of his feet, scratched the back of his head. 

  
  


“I… Wanted a proper first, er, date,” he shrugged - and he was starting to think all of this might be too much for a first. “I looked around to see what humans consider to be romantic and everything. I thought… A picnic on Caradon to see the meteor shower of Tha would be… Well, I thought you might like it, but it’s perfectly fine if you don’t. We could still do Oxford, if you’d rather like that.”

“Doctor, this is perfect,” she simply said, her words standing between a whisper and a sob. “You’re not real. You can’t be real. Look at all this, Doctor, this is all… You did all of this for me. I… You… You…”

  
  


Unable to find the words, she grabbed his hands and clasped his long fingers over the sides of her face, making sure than some of them touched her temples.

  
  


“Do your thing,” she urged him, looking into his deep chocolate orbs with eyes full of despair and tears. “Do it, listen to what’s in my soul. Please, hear me.”

  
  


He smiled fondly, her tears bringing his own about, and he bent to press his forehead against her, slightly slanted so he could brush his lips against hers as he spoke.

  
  


“I’m listening to you, my Hulis,” he murmured as he breathed some of his own love and roaring affection through their bond. “I feel you. I hear you. Always. I only listen when I need to listen. When you want me to listen. I’m listening, now, my love. Let the anger go. Let the sorrow and the guilt go. I’m listening.”

“I love you so much, Doctor,” she sniffed, giving his lips a quick kiss before she buried her face in the crook of his neck. “Can you feel that? Please tell me you can feel that.”

“I feel it, Rose,” he reassured her, cradling the base of her skull to nestle her face deeper against his shoulder. “I feel it in you, and I feel it in me. Never, ever doubt that.”

“I can try,” she giggled through her tears, finally releasing her cinching hold on the lapels of his jacket. “You make it too bloody hard, Doctor, but I’ll give it my best shot, yeah?”

“I know you will. Now come on, love. We don’t want the New New Earth champagne to get warm, do we?”

 

* * *

 


	18. Flowers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello dear readers!
> 
> Finally back with a new chapter for this soulmate AU, and because I haven't upated in quite some time, I made it longer!  
> I know I promised a different rating for this one, and I'm sorry to tell you it is really not happening in this chapter. I just had this whole thing in my head and I got sidetracked again. Definitely not sexy, definitely angsty.  
> But you get to meet a new sidekick, and this is also the start of the second part of this story. Kind of. I honestly make this all up as I go along, so we'll see.
> 
> Anyway, thank you so much for all your lovely comments, for your kudos and your support, it really means a lot!  
> I hope you'll enjoy it, thanks for reading!

* * *

 

 

The pleasant warmth she felt wasn’t only a consequence of the alcohol running in her veins. She might have been a little tipsy, thank the champagne they had shared over the course of their little picnic, but she was sober enough to know, to feel, to enjoy  _ his  _ warmth. She was comfortably nestled against his chest, his long arms wrapped around her waist, his lips capturing hers between quiet murmurs of love, dropping small kisses on her nose, on her cheeks, on her chin, on her jaw. Small and soft kisses she particularly liked. It was odd, how she was feeling. Disappointed when his mouth went away, thrilled when it found hers again. Very odd, how it was both more than enough and not nearly enough. So real when his thin lips captured hers, a reassurance that he was here, a presence that filled her body and her mind, a promise,  _ I’m here and I’m never leaving _ . So very real. But when his kisses stopped, her heart fluttered, just lightly. Like the thrill she usually felt at the highest slope of a rollercoaster, she knew how it would feel like but had to wait for it to actually happen to fully remember. She felt so full of love for that man. She believed it was a consequence of the whole soulmate dimension of their relationship - a dimension she still didn't understand but that she had embraced without thinking about it twice.  _ Soulmates _ . It was preposterous. Aliens, she could deal with, because she had always believed humans couldn't be the only ones in the universe. But soulmates, that was… Esoteric. She believed in science, so a biological body, no matter how old or what capacity it possessed, she could understand. But soulmates, that belonged in the realm of all those silly things humans liked to believe in, mysterious and unfathomable.

 

Still, there was no other reason for her to love this man she’d known for a day so much. A raw craving that almost made her stomach hurt and her heart give up, a violent desire that almost made her furious he had waited so long to get to her, a passionate need that almost made her cry hysterical tears. She wasn’t even sure those feelings were human. She didn’t want them to be. She loved them. She loved him. She might not have understood, but she believed. She accepted.

 

He kissed her one last time and he gently unwrapped his arms from around her waist to shuffle next to her.

  
  


“I want to see your eyes when it happens,” he said softly, welcoming her head on his shoulder and her fingers between his.

“Meteor shower, you said?” she remembered as she looked up at the black velvet sky sparkling with little diamonds.

“Yep, it happens once every five million years,” he started to explain, sifting through his memories from the Academy in a deep corner of his brain. “It first happened in the year eight thousand three hundred and sixty-seven, Earth time. The locals called it the Rain of the Goddess. Every five million years, there was a huge celebration that lasted for two full moons in honor of Tha, deity of agriculture. The meteors release gases that fall on the surface of the planet and make everything grow so fast you’d believe it’s some kind of miracle. They did, anyway.”

“Why do you talk about them in the past?”

“Caradonians have been extinct for a long time from this point,” he said with a shrug - it seemed he wasn’t much affected by any of it, probably because he knew that was how the universe worked, she believed. “There was a massive cold wave that decimated the population. It was a very primitive tribe, a bit like… Your prehistoric Homo Erectus, but with a twentieth century intelligence. They were socially and culturally very clever, but the planet hasn’t got many resources to use, so they never developed any kind of advanced technology to help them survive. They had a good life, though. Peaceful. Quiet. We could go and meet them, someday. If you want.”

“Yeah, I’d like that,” she smiled, snuggling closer to his side. “So, when does it start?”

“Shouldn’t be long now. Why, are you in a hurry?”

  
  


She snorted out a laugh and playfully slapped his shoulder before she reached inside her pocket.

  
  


“Just want to give you a little something before we watch the show,” she said as she took out her wallet and flipped it open. “Not much, and you won’t travel very far with it, but I got you your Oyster, Doctor.”

  
  


It seemed rather odd to talk about a plastic card bought in a murky underground station in London on a planet lost in the confines of space. She probably would have had the same awkward feeling if she had found an alien artifact in her aunt’s backyard. It just seemed… Absurd. Not as absurd as the smile that split his face in two and the way he clapped his hands excitedly, though. It wasn’t supposed to be important. She was even embarrassed to present him with such a gift, with all the wonderful things he had already given her, but at least he seemed to like it. 

  
  


“Does that mean I can take the underground trains, now?” he asked with a goofy grin, turning the card into his hands like a precious relic.

“Yeah, you can,” she giggled - and she gave him small leather card wallet embroidered with a deep blue rose on the front. “Got you this as well. Mickey told me the flower was a bit cliché, but I thought the colours matched your suit rather well. I’ll get you something better later, I was just a bit short on time, but well...”

“No, no, Rose, this is more than enough,” he shook his head as he carefully slid the card into the holder. “You didn’t have to, this is amazing. Can we go tomorrow then? On the trains?”

“Sure, whenever you want, Doctor.”

“Thank you so much, love, you…”

  
  


He looked up to her face when she shushed him with a tug on his sleeve, and he was struck by the turquoise tint of her skin. The silence was broken by a faint sizzling sound, her eyes widened, her mouth gaped. It had started. 

 

He hurried to shove his card into his pocket and took the hand that was looking for his,. He couldn’t decide if it was the whole scenery unwrapping before their eyes or her beauty highlighted by streaks of blue light that amazed him the most. He had seen paintings of the meteor shower before, but no piece of art, no matter how good, could render the beauty of all those comets splitting through the sky like arrows of cold fire. Thousands and thousands of burnings chunks of rock and ice piercing through the atmosphere, lighting up the dark brighter than any sun could, a gigantic firework of blue shades that sketched shapes into which he could read pictures. No classes, no books at the Academy had prepared him for this. This was the universe he had always wanted to see. This was the reason he couldn’t have stayed on Gallifrey for the rest of his days, even if he had never met his soulmate. It was pure beauty.

 

But then, he stole a quick glance at her face - and if he found the meteor shower beautiful, it was nothing compared to his soulmate in that moment. She looked perfect. How her eyes fought not to blink, as if she didn’t want to miss a single second of the spectacle. How her nostrils flared when she gasped in hard, as if she suddenly remembered she had to breathe. How her lips parted to let silent whispers through. How her cheeks glowed blue, the bolts of fire reflecting on the surface of the tears clinging to her skin. She looked so fragile, so small, so delicate. So human, in a way. So very human, his soulmate. A rare flower with frail petals that would whither long before he’d get to catalogue everything he loved about her and secure them in the corner of his mind so he wouldn’t forget. 

 

On this faraway planet, billions of years into her future, not that long before all the lights of the universe would dwindle down, he was suddenly struck by the sheer brevity of her life. She was human. Just human. Such a short lifespan. So much to do in so little time. So much to say in so very few years. So much to share in what would only be a blink of an eye to him. He had been blessed with the most wonderful and beautiful soulmate anyone could ever wish for. He had been cursed with a little piece of human he would have to watch die, day after day. He had barely found her, and he was already seeing her go. So soon, he would be all alone again. Left on his own, in a universe that would be but a desolate desert he'd have to wander until he'd die of agony - hopefully, not too long after her.

 

He squeezed her hands tighter, pulled her closer, and he watched the last meteors flicker out in the dark depths of the sky. It hadn't lasted as long as he had hoped. But it didn't matter. It might have been short, but he still had loved it. He regretted having had those sad thoughts maim the experience, but that regret taught it one thing he deemed to be of the utmost importance when it came to his soulmate. Enjoy every single minute of their lives together to their fullest. Simply live, before Death would take her away. Simply be happy, before sorrow would take him away. Simply love her, cherish her, adore her, before time would take it all away.

  
  


“I love you,” he whispered into her ear as he brought a hand over her heart, just to feel its steady beat under her clothes, under her skin. “I will never be allowed to say it enough, but I want to make sure you know. I love you, Rose.”

“As I love you, my Doctor,” she smiled, hurrying to wipe her tears with the back of her hand. “This was perfect. I’ve never seen anything more beautiful before. Thank you so much for… Everything.”

“What did I say about thanks?” he said softly - though it was clear from his grin he was pleased with her reaction. “Now, open up your hand for me, love. I have a gift, too.”

“Again? Seriously, Doctor, you need to stop with that or ‘m gonna start to feel really bad about myself.”

  
  


He didn’t seem to hear her, reaching inside his pocket to take out the small square of white silk she had spotted earlier instead. It almost looked heavy between his hands, despite its quiet fluttering in the soft breeze and the shine of its smooth surface. Other Gallifreyan circles were sewn out of a single thread in the corners, motifs she was unable to decipher - she would have thought visiting the Tardis would have been enough to translate them, but it obviously wasn’t. It was a fine piece of work, but she had always believed handkerchiefs were the kind of gifts women gave to men, not the other way around. Well, in medieval human societies, at least. Maybe it was different for him. Either way, it was beautiful.

 

She expected him to hand her the square of silk, but he simply unfolded it and snatched something akin to a bright pearl from it, fast, as if he wanted to shelter it from the air surrounding them. When the handkerchief was shoved back in his pocket, she understood it wasn’t the gift. The pearl was. 

  
  


“This is my last gift,” he reassured her, cupping the back of her hand before he put the small yellow sphere in the crook of her palm. “For now, that is.”

“What is it?” she asked as she watched the warm, almost hot bead roll over her skin.

“Why don’t you just watch, love?”

  
  


He beamed at her and pointed at the sky with his index, mouthing the word  _ meteors _ . Before she could assemble the bits and pieces of information, the pearl started to quiver in her palm, an almost imperceptible buzz that coursed over its glossy surface. And then, it split open, just a tiny crack at first. But within mere seconds, a long stem the colour of wheat sprouted from the shell, tiny spiky leaves growing along its length, roots wrapping around her fingers, until, finally, a bright pink flower bloomed right in front of her eyes. Large petals the shape of tears, piling up into a corolla that sheltered what she could only describe as miniature light bulbs shedding a pale purple light. An alien flower, obviously, but without a doubt the most beautiful she had ever seen in her life.

 

The meteor gases that made plants grow, she remembered. If he hadn’t told her about it, she would probably have believed the same thing the autochtones had believed, too. It had to be a miracle, or some kind of powerful wizardry, no matter how many scientific explanations he would come up with.

  
  


“Doctor, this is…” she started, brushing a tentative finger on a leave that felt like velvet under her finger. “This is amazing, how…”

“Look around, love,” he grinned, spreading his arms to embrace the whole scenery. “Look what the shower did.”

“Holy…”

  
  


She managed to detach her eyes from her flower she gasped softly. When they had landed among trees that barely reached her chin and short blades of plain orange grass, their surroundings had morphed into some kind of fairytale-like landscape. Hundreds of flowers had bloomed all around them, the light of the lanterns projecting lively shadows on multicolored petals, the small bushes had evolved into massive troves of brambles dotted with bright red berries, the shrubs had grown into trees taller, bigger than any of those she had seen on Earth. She hadn’t seen, hadn’t heard, hadn’t felt a single thing. It had all happened so fast, so quietly she wouldn’t have been surprised if he had told her they just had teleported to another planet. An even better planet than where they had landed a mere two hours back.

  
  


“Impressive, isn’t it?” he smiled, trailing two finger down the stem of her flower to wrap them around her thumb. “Do you like it?”

“I love it, this is all… Wonderful,” she smiled back before she bent over to kiss his jaw.  “Like a dream. Better than a dream, because I know I won’t wake up from this.”

“And my flower? How does it look? I know humans like them in bunches to put on a table, but...”

“This one is special, isn’t it?” she asked, reverently unhooking the roots from her fingers because she somehow knew it was - it was the first time he actually cared about her reaction to one of his gifts, it had to mean something.

“I can’t tell you how it’s called,” he started with a disinterested shrug that couldn’t quite hide the melancholy of his words. “This flower, it’s the only thing I inherited from my mother. She wanted you to have it, or so my father wrote in his will. She was very fond of flowers, my mother, and when she wasn’t working in the crops, she liked to look after her garden. She grew her own flowers, created her own species crossbreeding a few others, and she sold them on the market to earn a few extra credits. She created this one for you, my soulmate, and it’s unique. It will never lose its colours, never whither. Its name is my mother’s name, and that’s why I can’t tell you how it’s called. On Gallifrey, you can’t ever say the names of...  The dead. We don’t even use our names that often, as a matter of fact. Anyway, yes, this flower is special. I’m not asking you to like it, you know, but I just…”

“I love it, Doctor, I do,” she hurried to reassure him when she saw was on the verge of breaking down. 

“Good, yes…That’s… My mother’s, you see, and… I know it’s not much, but my parents, they never had much, and… Even if she were alive, she would have given you something like that, I think, because she...”

  
  


He bit his lip halfway through what he wanted to say to drown his sorrow in the flow of words, but the last one were lost in broken sobs anyway. He looked away and blew a heavy breath through his teeth, trying to rein his emotions in, but then she cupped his cheek. The wam contact was enough to set his tears free, and he rubbed his hands over his face, hard, fast, in the vain hope to erase any trace of what he thought to be shameful weakness from his features.

  
  


“She just loved flowers,” he finished quickly in a voice that was awkwardly high-pitched.

 

She took a deep breath to bury the sob she felt rising in her throat and forced a smile on her lips. Even if he had done his best to hide them, she had heard the quiver in his voice, she had seen the tears in his eyes, she had felt his sorrow at the back of her head. She always longed to know more about him, about who he really was, and she knew sharing his pains was just as important and meaningful as sharing his joys. It was hard not to cry, especially with all those feelings oozing from his body and his mind, and for a moment she thought she would break into tears before he would understand just how moved she was. He did understand. It only brought more tears to his eyes. She barely had time to set the precious flower aside before he pulled her into a crushing hug and she was drowned in the deluge of grief cascading from his mind. She was sure this grief was his, and his only, but she couldn’t help feeling like it was a bit hers, too. 

  
  


“I’m sorry,” he whimpered through his sobs in the crook of her shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Rose, I… I didn’t think… It’s just… I miss her.”

“It’s alright, my Doctor, just let it out,” she comforted despite the tears rolling down her cheeks. “It’s okay, it’s all okay.”

“But I shouldn’t… I can’t even remember her, how can I miss someone I never really knew?”

  
  


She waited before she answered, waited for his cries to die and his shoulders to still. She rubbed his back in soothing motions, kissed his neck, hugged him closer. She had never really been comfortable with consoling people, nor ever been good at it, so she could only hope it was enough to reassure him, show him she was there for him, ready to support him for however long he would need it. It broke her heart to see him so grief-stricken, and she somehow felt guilty. Without his precious gift, this wouldn’t have happened. But then again, she supposed it would all have happened, one way or another, sooner or later. He had never grieved his mother, not once in more than four hundred years. Maybe it was time he did.

  
  


“Sometimes I miss my dad, and I never knew him either, you know,” she said softly when she was sure her voice wouldn’t be drowned in the sound of his cries. “She’s your mum, Doctor, it’s just natural to miss her and to mourn her.”

“Your father?” he asked between sniffs, slowly pulling away from her with a frown. “You never knew him?”

“He died before I could walk,” she shrugged, cupping her face to wipe his tears with her thumbs. “But we’ll keep that story for later, yeah? You, Doctor, how are you feeling?”

“Don’t know, a bit like… I don’t know, Rose, how do you cope with this?”

“You just... Say goodbye, I suppose.”

“How? How do you say goodbye to someone who’s not there?”

  
  


He rubbed his nose with the back of his sleeve and watched as she picked up her flower, carefully sliding it between his fingers. 

  
  


“Part of your mum is in that flower,” she said, gently squeezing her hand around his. “She loved you, Doctor. And she loved her flowers. Don’t you think… She’d like her son to plant one of her flowers on such a beautiful planet? No one but you would know where it is. It could be your place. A… Sanctuary. Just for the two of you. And you could say goodbye, just goodbye, because you know you can always find her here again. How does that sound, Doctor?”

“But this one is yours, and I don’t have any other,” he lamented, shoulders slumping slightly.

“That one is perfect, isn’t it? It means… You’ve found me, and you did what she wanted. She’d be happy, don’t you think?”

“I… Suppose, yes,” he nodded slowly, staring at the pink petals as if looking for an answer. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”

“I know I don’t, Doctor,” she reassured him with a tentative smile. “But this is your choice. Do what feels right.”

“Then...” he started, pushing himself up on his feet. “Yes, I could… Plant it on the edge of the cliff, maybe. I was told… She liked to watch the sun rise. It’s not weird, is it?”

“Of course it isn’t, that sounds perfect, Doctor. Do you want me to do anything? Leave you alone, maybe?”

“She wanted you to have this flower, love,” he said as he helped her up and laced their fingers together. “It wouldn’t feel right if I did it without you. And, to be honest, I’d feel better if you held my hand.”

  
  


She only squeezed his hand tighter and led him to a spot on the edge of the cliff where the other flowers were just a bit sparser. It barely took a minute to dig a hole in the humid earth and plant the pink flower among a bed of a rainbow of others, but each of his movements were heavy with a respect and a reverence that made it look more meaningful than anything she had ever seen him do. Burying this flower into the ground felt a lot like he was burying his own sorrow with it. He would leave both behind.

 

She remained silent when she saw his mouth speak soundless words, but she answered every brush of his thumb against the back of her hand with one of her own, answered his unspoken request to stay close to him, answered his desire for comfort he sent through their link with quiet thoughts of reassurance. She didn’t know what he was saying, but she didn’t want to know. Even soulmates had to have their own secret garden, she believed. 

  
  


“I think she’ll be happy here,” he smiled a quivering smile after a few minutes, wrapping an arm around her shoulder to hug her close to his chest. “It looks nice. She’d like it. I feel… Much better, you know. I understand why humans do it, now. You say goodbye and you move on. It’s… Liberating, in a way. Thank you, my love. And… I’m really sorry if I ruined everything, I promise…”

“Don’t ever apologize for this, Doctor,” she shook her head, tugging lightly on his tie in reprisal. “This was important to you, and it was important to me. You said many times you’d always be there for me, but I hope you know I’ll always be here for you, too. Even in times like this. Especially in times like this. Whatever you need, whenever, I’ll be here.”

“I know you’ll be, Rose, I…What?”

  
  


She was surprised by the way he cocked his head to the side with a quizzical look, slightly bending his head forward like he wanted her to actually answer his question.

  
  


“Rose, what?” he insisted, a confused frown settling over his features.

“What  _ what _ ?” she urged when he frowned at her for a few seconds too long.

“Why are you pulling on my coat?”

“My hands are right here,” she said as she pressed her fingers deeper against his chest, scraping her nails against his shirt. “M not pulling on anything.”

“Then what… Oh, Ticklee. What are you doing here, little guy?”

“ _ Ticklee _ ? What?”

  
  


She followed his eyes down to the ground, and spotted a small creature that was angrily tugging on the hem of his coat. She couldn’t decide what it was. Some sort of tiny animal with a fluffy tail so long she couldn’t see where it ended among all the flowers, big black eyes glowing like beetles under the moonlight, a face it must have inherited from the earthian version of capuchin monkey, a body covered with a heavy duvet the colour of snow. It certainly looked like a monkey, and while she knew monkeys on Earth were clever little things, that one seemed to be entirely too intelligent. It looked at her for a moment, blinked once, flared its nostrils, darted out a pointy blue tongue, then looked up at who could only be its master with eyes that spoke eloquently of his bemusement..

 

Her soulmate obviously understood, crouched next to the animal and produced a series of odd noises. A shrilling whistle between his teeth, a few clicks on his tongue, a suck on his lower lip he released with a loud pop, another whistle. She gaped at the both of them when the little monkey answered in similar sounds, and he looked up to her with a delighted smile.

  
  


“He likes you,” he told her, patting two fingers on its crown of white fluff. “Says you smell nice and look pretty. And he wants to climb on your shoulder, because it makes it easier for him to talk to me, he won’t have to crane his neck as much. You can tell him, one click of your tongue for yes, two for no.”

“You can actually speak with.. Him?” she asked, awed by the way the creature rolled its mile-long tail around its waist, as if he wanted to be ready to actually climb.

“Of course I can,” he nodded proudly with a fondness that clearly showed it was more than a pet. “Well, he only speaks a hundred words or so, but he’s an affective telepath so we can understand each other. More or less. There’s always a bit of wild-guessing involved, but we manage. When he wants to talk, that is, which is not that often anyway. This is the first time I see him in… Three weeks? He’s a solitary guy, he doesn’t really like company. Oh, and he’s very easily offended, so before you make the mistake and he disappears for a whole year, he is not a thing, he is not a pet, and I am neither his owner, nor his master. We’re friends. And, um, I would recommend you only click your tongue once.”

  
  


She did as she was told, not wanting to be insulting, and the animal whistled happily before it jumped up to her waist and clawed its way up her side, until it was sat on her shoulder, part of its tail slithering around her neck to secure some kind of balance. He winked at her, thankful for the smart choice, and engaged into another conversation she could only listen to, fascinated by the fact that such simple sounds could bear so much meaning. But then, she noticed how restless the monkey was getting on her shoulder, even tugging at her ear and tightening its tail around her throat. And she noticed his face slowly fall, from a bright smile to a somber frown, until it turned into a grimace of panic.

  
  


“Come, Rose, quick,” he urged, pulling on her wrist so she would follow in his fast steps. “We need to go.”

“But the picnic, Doctor, we can’t…”

“It doesn’t matter, leave it. Come on, just run.”

“Doctor, what…”

“Not now, Rose,” he barked angrily, tugging harder on her hand. “Just run, will you? Gods, humans are stubborn.”

  
  


She quickly closed her mouth to keep her protest to herself and broke into a strut behind him, holding the little monkey close to her chest so she wouldn’t lose it on her way. The Tardis wasn’t very far and it didn’t take long before they found themselves in the console room, flooded from every side by raging blinking red spotlights. She put the animal down on a jumpseat and stood at a reasonable distance from her soulmate, not particularly wanting to get in his way or faint under the ferocious waves of anxiety he shot through her mind like poisoned daggers. She just watched, nibbling on her thumb, as he slammed buttons and slapped levers and smashed keys, with so much force in his broad movements she thought he would eventually break the whole thing and they’d be stranded on this planet for the rest of their lives.

 

But after a half a minute that had seemed to spread over far too long, the time rotor finally turned blue and wheezed that one sound she knew meant they were going back into space. He bent over the console with a heavy sigh, rubbed his forehead on his shoulder, tapped the tip of his shoe on the grating for a moment. 

 

She took a tentative step towards him - and realized the monkey was clinging to the bottom of her jeans, watching its friend with the same hesitation and fear that probably reflected in hers. She reached out with a hand towards him, terrified by his silence and his stillness.

  
  


Then he turned to face her, stare at her with bloodshot eyes, talk to her with a rough and broken voice she had never heard from him before.

  
  


“We’re gonna have to stay in the Time Vortex for a little while, love. And your nose is bleeding again.”

 

* * *

 


	19. Hurt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM SORRY ABOUT THE ANGST
> 
> Seriously, this is the exact opposite of what I wanted to write but... Well, you'll see.  
> On a more positive note, the angst won't be as bad in the next chapter. Hopefully.
> 
> Anyway, here goes, I hope you will enjoy it despite everything, basically.
> 
> Thanks a lot to all the readers, the kudos and the comments, they really mean a lot!

* * *

 

 

“Doctor…”

  
  


She felt the blood slowly roll down her lips, her chin, but she didn't wipe it. Instead, she pressed the heels of her hands, hard, against her temples to try and tame the raging headache that sprouted deep in her brain. It was unlike any other migraine, unlike any other pain she had ever experienced. This time, she knew it wasn’t ordinary. Because the pain came with a rage, an anger and a resentment so deep she thought she would never be able to feel anything else than those spiteful feelings. Feelings that were his. Her eyes, steadily dripping with heavy tears, stared at him. His lips were moving, but no sounds were coming out. The words simply screamed inside her head, his voice hammering, relentless, furious, against the walls of her skull, syllables of that one language she couldn’t translate. 

  
  


“Fuck, shit,  _ fuck _ , whatever bloody word you sodden humans invented!” he suddenly broke into shouts as he started to give the console heavy punches that sent a few buttons flying across the room. “You had to be human, hadn’t you? You had to!”

“Doctor, I’m not…” she started, making her way on wobbling legs to the nearest jumpseat so she wouldn’t topple over on the grating.

“Yes, you are! You bloody are human and you stink! You stink so much, Rose Tyler, they just had to take a sniff! Of course, it doesn’t help much that your brain is a bloody broadcast station sending massive waves across the whole bloody Time Vortex! Thank the Heavens you’re too stupid to understand coordinates, because we’d both be dead right now, or worse! Fuck, you… You had to... ”

  
  


He took a deep breath, only to rip a manoeuvering globe out of its socket and throw it across the console room with a roar of rage. Somehow, she knew she should be scared, and probably hurt by all those daggers he shot at her along his words. Deep inside, she probably was. But all her forces were directed at keeping her body upright and trying hard, so hard not to faint, so hard not to let her whole world fall into a precipice of darkness.

  
  


“Doctor, I’m not feeling that well,” she managed to say through a broken whisper, a bubble of blood popping at the corner of her lips. “My head…”

“You’re right, your head is the bloody problem!” he laughed bitterly, spinning on his heels to glare at her with eyes streaked with broken blood vessels. “Your head, and your stupid  _ humanity _ ! So weak and pathetic and frail-minded!”

“I’m sorry, I…”

  
  


She didn’t have enough breath left to finish what she wanted to say, and she simply let her head bow forward under its own weight. She should have fought harder. Her whole body followed, her muscles turned to jelly and her bones to mush, and she almost comically collapsed into a small heap of trembling limbs on the floor. The Doctor. He thought she was pathetic. Through the deafening pain slicing through her brain, that was the only thing she heard. Not beautiful, or strong, or kind, anymore. Just pathetic. The pathetic human who couldn’t hold a candle to an almighty Time Lord. Almighty, terrifying, dangerous Time Lord. A Time Lord who silently walked towards her, looked down at her like an insect he could have crushed with his heel. The Doctor was gone. Her soulmate was gone. Her brain was too weak, her mind too blinded by the pain to even remember a single time when this alien had been a gentle soulmate with her. Maybe he had never been. Maybe it had all been a perfect illusion, in the end. 

  
  


“Take me home.”

  
  


She squeezed her eyes shut, as hard as she could, and planted her nails into the leather of the seat to try and pull her body up. Somehow, the pain faded a little after the whisper left her lips. The anger dwindled down, only to be replaced by horror. An arrow of pure, unadulterated fear that pierced straight to her heart. It was his, too.

  
  


“No.”

  
  


His voice sounded oddly calm. Oddly  _ human _ , she realized. Nothing like the thunder of harmonies and low-pitched notes that rumbled in her head that were most definitely alien. His fear infected her. A vicious poison that cascaded through her veins and had panicked tremors animate her muscles. He didn’t want to take her home. He wouldn’t take her home. She took a sharp breath in and choked on the rivulets of blood that rolled down her throat. Instead of trying to pull herself up on the seat, she rolled on her stomach and hooked her fingers in the holes of the grating. And she pulled herself towards the door, quite unable to remember she wouldn’t go very far if the Tardis wasn’t landed somewhere safe. All she wanted was to escape the pain, escape all those feelings, escape  _ him _ . 

 

She shrieked when she felt a strong hand tug on her shoulder and another on her knee.

  
  


“No, don’t,” she protested as vehemently as she could despite her weariness, flailing weak limbs around to free herself from his hold. “Let me go, take me home.”

“No,” he repeated without a waver in his voice as he huddled her close to her chest and locked her arms into a vice-like grip.

  
  


He started to walk into a corridor, his steps only faltering when she managed to kick the crook of his knee with her heel. Still, he didn’t stop. Long strides that took them to his bedroom, where he dropped her down on the bed and hurried to straddle her waist. Her fear increased tenfold under his darkened eyes and her heart almost broke through her ribs when he tugged harshly on her jumper to reveal her shoulders.

  
  


“Don’t, please, don’t,” she cried, not caring in the least how  _ pathetic  _ she must have sounded when he brought his hands to her neck.

  
  


She tried to push him away, she tried to take her nails on the skin of his hands, she tried to lift her waist to have him lose his balance. All in vain. She let her sobs free and gave up on any attempt at resisting his assault. She was hurting. She was weak. She was human. Whatever happened, she would never be in control. She closed her eyes, focused on that torturous pain throbbing in the tiniest cell of her brain, let it wash over her. Better than to imagine what he was about to do. 

 

She shivered, her breath hitched in her throat. Long fingers wrapped around her neck, others slipped under the collar of her jumper. She could only hope it wouldn’t last. 

  
  


“I won’t hurt you,” he whispered, brushing a thumb she knew was supposed to be reassuring just behind her ear. “I’ll be gentle. This is for your own good, my Rose.”

  
  


Only a pained whine echoed in her throat. But then, his fingers reached around her neck, barely brushing her skin, and unfastened the necklaces. Nothing more. He delicately picked the Tardis key from her sternum, then the watch he had given her on their first night spent together, and shoved them in the bedside table drawer behind a pile of knick-knacks. He took out something from his pocket, a set of two small metal disks ornate with a maze of engraved lines, and he brought one where his thumb had lingered moments before.

  
  


“This will feel unpleasant,” he warned softly, cupping her cheek in a comforting hold. “But it’s a necessary evil, I’m afraid. You’ll feel better after this, and I’ll take care of your nosebleed.”

“Then you can take me home?” she asked between weak sobs, though she was quite sure she already knew the answer.

“No. No, I can’t. I would, but I can’t. When you’re better, I’ll tell you why. Now, take a deep breath, love.”

“I can’t, I… Please, don’t… Whatever you want to do, don’t, please…”

“I’m so sorry, love. I’m sorry.”

  
  


She gasped in a difficult gulp of air and for a moment she believed her head would burst open. Three needles pierced her skin behind her ear, all the way through her skull bone, and oozed liquid fire in the soft tissue of her brain. Mere seconds later, the same thing happened at the nape of her neck. Scorching. Searing. Tweezers tearing every fibre of her body apart at once, miniature daggers stabbing at her nerves in unisson. Her body arched under him, her mouth hung open to release a scream she couldn’t fuel with fresh air. It wasn’t painful. It was so much worse. Thankfully, it didn’t last very long. Just a few seconds of agony, before her vision whitened out and her whole system shut down. She only felt his tears splash on her cheeks and join hers, she only heard his apology shaped around a plaintive cry before her world turned to blackness void of anything else than silence.

  
  


“I’m sorry, my Hulis,” he breathed out, brushing a strand of hair stuck in dried blood away from her cheek. “I’m sorry I had to hurt you again. I’ll make it all better. I’ll find a way out, I promise.”

  
  


He made sure the devices were properly secured into her skin, then propped her up against the pillows so her blood wouldn’t gather in her mouth or in her throat. From what he could see, the bleeding had stopped almost as soon as his apparatuses had been set into her skin, but he wasn’t about to take any chances. He should have realized sooner. He should have known. With everything he had learnt about the human brain, it should have been obvious. He should have understood, but he hadn’t. His soulmate, his precious Rose was paying the price for his own mistake, his own carelessness. 

 

He murmured one last apology and slipped off the bed to fetch a humid towel in the bathroom. The Tardis had already provided a pale blue square of flannel on the edge of the sink - not for his benefit, if the judgmental groan under the grating was any clue.

  
  


“It’s half your doing, stupid ship,” he barked as he sntached the towel and turned on the tap. “You were supposed to protect us, keep us away from them. My brain almost fried, I lost a lung and a kidney, and Rose… Rose is…”

  
  


He swallowed all the horrible words that brought tears to his eyes and pinched his lips. He wouldn’t say it. He refused to say she was hurt, that she was injured beyond fixing, that she was dying. It would only make the truth of it harder to accept. He stared at his reflection in the mirror. Never before had he looked so angry and somber. The face that was born to love, to smile, to laugh, was nothing more than rage and guilt. Bloodshot eyes caused by a violent surge of telepathic waves, nostrils flaring to breathe in all that oxygen that couldn’t travel to his dead lung, skin paled by the ache radiating from his two surviving kidneys, overwhelmed by too much blood flow. All because of them. Because of them, they were doomed. He, and Rose. His Hulis. He had wanted so much, so desperately to be her Doctor, and he would end up being her Reaper. Because of them and their laws.

  
  


“We were never meant to be free, were we?” he whispered, half-heartedly wringing his makeshift flannel. “Together as outlaws, apart as slaves. What am I supposed to do to protect her, now? Beg for forgiveness? Sell my soul? Just die? What do I do, old girl? Tell me. Please, tell me what I should do to keep her safe.”

  
  


He looked up expectantly at the lights on the ceiling, hoping his ship would answer like she usually did. Nothing. Not a flicker, not a single lumen more shed by the bulbs. 

  
  


“Fine, have it your way,” he shrugged as he gathered his wet towel into his hands. “I’ll find my own.”

  
  


He turned on his feet to go back to the bedroom. The wet towel splashed over his worn chucks and the small of his back bumped against the sink when he took a step back. His voice was gone. He could only look at her, leaning heavily against the doorframe with eyes that betrayed the hatred she was trying to hide under a thin veil of calmness. He had never liked the sight of blood much, especially not hers. But at the sight of her cheeks, her mouth and her chin turned dark crimson with dried blood, his stomach heaved more than usual. The consequence of a furious nosebleed he knew he was partly responsible for. He opened his mouth to try to speak, at least one more apology she more than deserved, but she rose a fist in the air and shook her head slowly.

  
  


“Take me home,” she ordered, the words rough and unevenly pitched - it was obvious she was still very weak and disoriented, but it seemed her resolution was enough to keep her standing. “Take me home or I swear I’ll throw that to your face.”

  
  


She took out a rumpled box out of her pocket and tossed it at his feet. One word made his stomach sink and his hearts leap erratically against his chest. Aspirin. It was mostly lethal when ingested, but even simple skin contact was enough to cause extremely dangerous allergic reactions - the pictures he had seen in books were enough to pull his features into a wince and his hands to get uncomfortably clammy.

  
  


“Rose, please…” he started, taking a step on the side to get closer to the shower, should she decide to really murder him with the white powder he spotted between her fingers - powder would be lethal. “Please, listen to me.”

“So you can feed me dreams and lies again?” she snorted and grimaced at the same time, as if she was disgusted by his sole presence. “Insult me and hurt me again?”

  
  


She saw how he struggled not to roll his eyes and snort back, but she also noticed his throat bob up and down and how he moulded his body close to the wall. He took a full minute to compose himself, briefly closed his eyes. He wanted to scream he had never meant to say those words, that they weren’t really his words anyway, that this anger wasn’t born into his hearts but into a mind that had been soiled by another. But her obvious resentment made him choose another path. 

  
  


“What you call dreams and lies, what you call insult and hurt. All of that, I call life,” he said, almost indifferent, perfectly aware she wouldn’t hear another apology or heartfelt arguments anyway. “You think I’m your dream, isn’t that right? That I’m supposed to be a dashing prince charming who can give you anything you want, anything you could ever wish for, do as you say or do as you please, treat you like a princess? But soulmates aren’t a fairytale, Rose. Sorry to disappoint, but there’s no magic. I’m a person. A real person. I love you, I always will, as best as I can, but I’m not perfect. Neither are you. You threaten to kill me and you don’t even try to find out about why I said any of what I said? Don’t even wonder for a second why I did what I did? Rose Tyler, going in for the kill, logic and consequences be damned! Bravo, darling, you’ve just proved how  _ human  _ you are.”

“I’m… I didn’t mean…” she stuttered, prying her fingers open to look at the white power like it was poison to her own skin. “I don’t know why I… I wouldn’t have… It was a mistake, okay?”

  
  


He smiled at those words, a kind of smile she recognized as being the one an adult gave to a kid who have just realized they were about to do the wrong thing. Patronizing. Sickeningly benevolent. Indignantly condescending. Except in wasn’t aimed at her. That smile wasn’t for her. It almost looked as if he wanted to face the mirror and give this smile to himself. It had a certain mechanicality to it, like he had seen it before and his lips were trying to remember how to do it. He must have been given that kind of smile quite a lot in his long lifetime, she supposed. It only made her guilt worse. Not worse enough to forget the pain caused by his words. Just worse enough to believe she might not be the only one to deserve an apology.

  
  


“We all make mistakes,” he shrugged, absentmindedly running a finger on the edge of the sink to gather a pearl of water on his fingertip. “Horrible mistakes even.”

  
  


He let the drop roll on his finger, follow the curves of his knuckles, of every crease and hill of his skin, until it reached the middle of his palm. He stared at it for a moment so long it almost dried. And then he snapped his fingers close into a tight fist. He gathered more, swiping his whole hand over the marble of the sink to watch the tears travel down his hand. What he saw in those waterdrops, she didn’t know. Probably some kind of metaphorical image only his brain could see.

  
  


“That’s just life, Rose,” he continued, rubbing his hand on his trousers when he got tired of watching. “It’s bound to happen, whether you want it or not. I’ll do my very best to avoid it, but sometimes, when it gets too much, you just have to let it out. Let your emotions take over rationality and common sense. I had to let it out earlier, because I was properly terrified. I meant what I said, and yes, it came out the wrong way, at the wrong time, and I hurt you. I’m sorry about that, but seriously, was that really enough to want me dead?”

“No… No, it wasn’t,” she shook her head slowly, looking down at her hand once again - though, without knowing why, she still was unable to let it go. “I… Wasn’t being rational. It’s just… I really thought you were different, Doctor. I thought I’d never hear such words from you. I’ve heard them all my life. The lies, the words that break your heart, all that hurt people can make you feel. Do you even know what it feels like, Doctor?”

  
  


He smiled tightly and his cheeks swelled as he released a long laugh through pinched lips, eyes blown wide in awe and sour surprise.

  
  


“Do I?” he asked, leaning towards her before he smacked his lips and faked an intense look of reflection.

  
  


She swallowed hard, uneasy, and watched his false smile fade into a placid expression that had her shift on her feet. She didn’t like that face much.

  
  


“Do you know how many times I’ve been lied to, Rose?” he asked, suddenly fascinated by a tiny tear on the sleeve of his jacket her thumbed repeatedly - he might have been thinking that if he rubbed it enough, it would magically stitch itself back. “Or how much I’ve been insulted, how much people have hurt me? I wasn’t born the day I met you, you know. Four hundred years, let me tell you, I’ve had my fair share of lies and hurt. People who mocked me because of my crooked knees and pushed me around in the corridors just to laugh at how I walked? People who stole my father’s quill and broke it when it was the only thing left I had to remember him? People who burnt my papers, who ripped apart the books I spent decades saving for, people who tore my clothes and set my shed on fire? All those people who told me you didn’t exist and made a joke out of me for believing in you? Van Gogh’s a  _ bunhel _ , they said. The orphan’s gonna end up in the  _ theltop _ . The hobo’s gonna die of a hearts attack - oh wait,  _ heart _ , he’ll only ever have one heart ‘cause he doesn’t have a soulmate. You think you’ve had it rough, Rose, and you have, I believe that. But don’t offend me and see me as what I’m not. Don’t see me as the perfect man of your dreams, because _ that’s _ truly insulting. I’m the Doctor. I’m not an alien charming in a flying blue box. I’m more than that.”

  
  


He sighed, weary, but also appalled to hear so much truth and bitterness in his own words. He plopped down on the laundry basket and looked into her eyes, relieved to see a softness that wasn’t there before. Maybe she could understand, after all. Maybe she could listen.

  
  


“That’s not how I imagined any of it, Rose,” he said softly, crossing his hands over his knees. “But that doesn’t mean I love you any less. You’re not just my soulmate, you’re Rose. You’re so much more than just a word, more than a name. I wish you’d see that in me, too. I know you don’t, right now, but I understand why. I think I do, at least. I still love you. Not because I’m meant to, but because I want to. So, yes, sometimes I’ll lie because I need to, to protect you, because that’s what I was born to do but mostly because I  _ want  _ to. Sometimes I’ll hurt you, even if I don’t realize it, sometimes I’ll insult you, even if I never mean it. That’s the way it is.”

“So, when you said I’m a stupid, feeble-minded human who stink, you didn’t mean it?” she said with raised eyebrows, something akin to hope and relief blooming in her stomach.

“Of course, I did,” he stated, leaning back against the tiled wall. “But these words are neither lies, nor insults. They’re facts.”

  
  


Well, there went her hope and her relief. Gone before she could even enjoy them properly. Gone before she could decide to wash her hands and forget she had felt the visceral need to hurt him for his insolence and violent mouth.

  
  


“Oh, are they now?” she asked, her voice unable to hide the underlying sarcasm.

“You’re a human in the Time Vortex. You leave traces, not olfactive per se, but you leave a trail trained Time Lords can sense. You’re also feeble-minded, that’s also a truth. Human brains are not designed to communicate telepathically. Because of me, yours can now send waves of feelings, words, pictures even, and it can also receive them. The thing is, your brain hasn’t got any shields. You have no control over that, and that makes you an easy prey. They latched onto your thoughts and your feelings. They found us, because you’re human, and because I wasn’t careful enough.”

“They?” she frowned, her hand dropping back on her side.

  
  


He got back up on his feet with a tired grunt and walked to her, unfazed by the way her fist clenched against her thigh.

  
  


“Throw that away and have a shower,” he told her as he bent down to carefully pick the empty box with the hand he had covered with the wet flannel. “Don’t take off the disks.”

“Why?” she asked, suddenly remembering the two devices that had caused the fainting that stuck awkwardly to her skin.

  
  


She brought two fingers to the one behind her ear, but he was quick to swat her hand away with his towel, a snake’s hiss seeping between his teeth.

  
  


“The headache’s gone, isn’t it? And they can’t track you as easily, so we should be safe for a while longer.”

“Doctor, who the Hell are they?” she insisted - but he was already off and out the bathroom, only stopping in his tracks with his back to her to give an answer.

“The reason why your sweet fairytale has just turned into a horror story. Shower, then I’ll tell you about what happened. I’ll tell you who they are.”

“Then you’ll take me home?”

“No,” he repeated for what seemed to be one too many times. “Not now. Maybe not ever.”

“So what, I’m your prisoner now? That was your plan all along, you’re gonna keep me locked up in this stupid ship for the rest of my days, is that it?”

“Possibly.”

“Well tough luck, Doctor, if you think you can just kidnap me like that! I’ll find a way out!”

“You’re in a spaceship, flying so fast just hearing the speed in numbers would make you dizzy, in a Time Vortex where time and space are relative, meaning they don’t exist until you’ve flown out of it. And you want to find a way out. Well,  _ tough luck _ . If you want to show me you’re not as stupid as I thought, that’s not the way to go.”

“God, you are such a rotten arsehole, Doctor, I fucking hate you!”

“Oh, trust me, you’ll wish you can, Rose. I certainly wish you could.”

  
  


He turned his head to gift her with a sad smile, mindlessly wrapping his fingers around the sleeve concealing his soulmark.

  
  


“Soulmates aren’t so fun anymore, right? Don’t worry, it’s not as fun as I hoped it’d be either. Shower, Rose. Fifteen minutes should do it. Scrub your hands, I want to see them red. And please, don’t threaten to kill me again, unless… You know, you really want to.”

 

* * *

 


	20. The Antichamber

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone!  
> I've finally found enough time to write a new chapter for this story!  
> I promised it would get better, and it will!
> 
> I hope you'll enjoy it!  
> Thank you everyone for your comments and your kudos, it's much appreciated!

* * *

 

 

It wasn’t him. It couldn’t be him. He watched as she tried to murder him with a hateful stare, only watched as she slammed the door shut and spat her venom and cursed him enough for regenerations to come. But he could only watch. He felt empty. Just a body, a shell. Nothing affected him like it should. The love of his life was behind that door, crying and hurting, and he could only watch. Part of him wanted to burst through that door, fall on his knees and beg for forgiveness until repentance would burn his tongue. But that part of him wasn’t free any longer. He listened to her tears until they drowned in the water of the shower splashing over the tiles, barely blinked when the door trembled, because she threw what must have been a bar of soap at it, heard her scream but barely shrugged. No matter how loud she’d raise her voice, how hard she’d cry her despair, he wasn’t in any disposition to alleviate her pain. Not when all he could feel was a mere indifference and an apathy that shackled all these emotions he was quite sure were struggling to burst out of their cage.

  
  


“Don’t come out until I tell you to, Rose,” he reminded her, bringing his mouth to the interstice so she would hear him over the sound of the water. “And wash your hands, got that?”

“Fuck you!” she shouted, the answer bringing a small smirk to his lips.

“Good. I’ll be waiting for you in the bedroom.”

  
  


He shoved his hands in his pockets and slowly walked away from the door. He lingered a moment in the bedroom, looking up at the ceiling she had designed the first time she had suggested she lived with him. The stars were gone. Instead of shining little dots and a half-moon hanging in a corner of a deep blue canvas, he could only see black. A dark depth he would have found depressing and funereal if he could have understood what it meant. The shelves the Tardis had added were gone, too. Everything was back to the way it was before his soulmate had decided to share her life with him. It wasn’t a good thing, but it wasn’t a bad thing either. Did he really need a silly little human by his side when all she would ever do was attract more trouble than they could handle? Probably not. She had nothing special but the soulmark on her arm. Was she worth risking his life, risking the little he owned and the little he had achieved, just because the universe had decided they belonged together? Most definitely not. One fleeting human life that would die long before he’d get to know her properly. So soon she would steal everything he had to give over a few decades and leave him with nothing. No human, no single being was worth such a sacrifice.

 

He turned on his heels when the door to the corridor clicked and opened on a dark room.

  
  


“Ah, quite right,” he smiled, taking a few steps towards the door. “I knew there was something I needed to do. Needs must, isn’t that right, old girl? Are we far away enough?”

  
  


The Tardis hummed encouragingly and nudged him in the direction of the room with a whisper she breathed against the nape of his neck. He wrapped his fingers around the handle, but before he closed the door behind him, he took one last look at the black ceiling.

  
  


“Make sure I stay in here until I’m done, will you? And make sure she doesn’t run off. Rose, she...I’m quite certain she’s scared and angry. Just… Take care of her.”

  
  


He closed the door before he could get an answer and took a sharp breath in. He loathed this room. He had only ever used it once, when he had stolen his ship and fled his planet so they wouldn’t be able to follow his whereabouts from too close. The first had been horrible enough, despite the relative freedom of mind he had enjoyed until he had managed to find a safe spot on Earth. The horror was turning to torture. Because this time, his mind wasn’t free.

 

He swallowed his bile and groped his way through the darkness until his fingers met the chair he was looking for. He sat, and he waited. It was neither cold, nor hot. Everything was black, a thick darkness that weighed down on his shoulders and made his neck bow forward. No sound but his blood rushing in his ears and his hearts hammering against his ribs. He frowned, unable to remember why he would lock himself up in this room on purpose. And then, he heard the haunting murmurs he had been unable to hear before.

 

_ We know where you are, Doctor. We’re coming for you. We found you and your ape. She betrayed you. She’s weak. Pathetic. You’ll answer for your crimes. You can’t run forever, Doctor. It’s just a matter of time.  _

 

His fingers clenched around the armrests and he squeezed his eyes tightly shut, breathy moans falling from his lips. Oh yes. He felt it. How his mind struggled against invisible boundaries, how his brain hurt each time he tried to think forbidden thoughts. Whoever was in control must have practised mind control for at least a millenium. If it weren’t for this sensory deprivation room that allowed him to entirely focus on his mind, he would have never been aware of the invader. How he had even thought about coming to that room, he didn’t know. The Tardis’ doing, probably. The clever old girl knew him too well not to notice such a change of behaviour. He had blamed his soulmate for her stupidity and her feebleness. Insulted her and claimed her inferiority. That realization had a giggle rise in his throat. Definitely not his. He would never… It wasn’t him. He felt them. Several of them. Some hovering over the edges of his consciousness, guiding him to dangerous territories. And another, deeper into his mind, spreading constricting filaments all around his thoughts to make sure they wouldn’t stray too far away from the vulnerability they induced. 

 

But he knew. He knew they were there. He knew what he needed to do. 

  
  


“Go away, go away,” he repeated like a mantra between his gritted teeth. “Go away, leave us alone, go away.”

  
  


_ The Antichamber won’t save you, Doctor. You can shield your mind, but you can’t shield hers. Pathetic human. Wherever you go, we’ll follow you. You won’t ever be free. _

  
  


“Shut up, go away, leave us alone, just go away.”

  
  


He was starting to feel it. The anger simmering in his stomach. The fear flooding his veins. It was working, but not nearly fast enough.  _ Pathetic human _ . That voice. It was that voice that had planted such terrifying thoughts in his brains. Those thoughts weren’t his. All those words he had said weren’t his. How could they ever be? His soulmate was clever, strong, the most wonderful being he had ever met over his centuries-long life. She would be his way out of this mess. His precious soulmate. His perfect soulmate. 

 

_ Even if you break free, we can smell the Tardis, Doctor. We can smell the stench of your human pet. You can’t hide. Surrender to us, Doctor, and we might let your pitiable soulmate live.  _

  
  


“I won’t let you anywhere near her,” he growled low in his throat, standing up from his chair to pace feverishly around the small room. “You won’t touch her, I won’t let you.”

  
  


Somehow, it was the thought of his soulmate that made the fight easier. Because he was starting to remember that love they had tried to take away. He was starting to remember why his second heart was still beating inside his chest, though its rhythm had lost the conviction and the strength he had always known. He hated those voices inside his head, robbing him of his control and immuring his feelings inside a prison that had no door. But he listened to them. Grasped onto each word, each little syllably to follow the trail to liberty. He needed to follow those words to the mind uttering them. Find the one responsible for that torment and corrupt their mind as much as they had corrupted his. 

 

_ She doesn’t love you anymore, Doctor. Have you even heard yourself? How you talked to her?  _

  
  


“It wasn’t me, it was you!” he protested in a loud shout, slamming his palm against the wall. “I would never… She knows I wouldn’t…”

  
  


_ She wants to go home. She hates you. Why bother, Doctor? Surrender, let her go. _

  
  


He finally felt it. The knot of the connection between their two minds, the knot he needed to severe so he could be his normal self again. The link wavered when he focused all his mental forces on that knot, but he quickly realized it wasn’t a simple two way communication. A second link was woven and spread from that knot to someone else. It only took a second before he realized the nature of the link, and his brain floated in unadulterated rage.

  
  


“You corrupted her, too?” he screamed at the ceiling, running a shaky hand through his wild strands of hair. “Is that why she wanted to leave me? Is that why she wanted to  _ kill  _ me?”

  
  


_ Humans are so easy to control, Doctor. You plant one seed of doubt in their frail minds and they let it grow into wonderful thoughts. _

 

He took a deep breath and lashed at the knot between their minds with a wave of spite and fury, the only two feelings that managed to break free at the thought his soulmate lured into believing he deserved to die for something he hadn’t done, something he hadn’t said. He knew these people could be fearless, remorseless when it came to punishing criminals for their deeds, but he also know they would never believe the naive Doctor capable of being just as fearless, just as remorseless. He forgot his principles for just a moment. A moment long enough to punish the invasive mind with sharp swords of frenzied hate and make it bleed, make it hurt, make it suffer for all the pain it had caused him and his soulmate. His brain was set ablaze by a sizzling fire and he felt the tears roll down his cheeks and melt with the sweat oozing from his overheated forehead. It wasn’t wise to rupture such a deep connection so fast, so destructively, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He needed his soulmate safe. Free of their sway. It wasn’t a long fight, because they hadn’t set up enough mental defenses to resist his fierceful assault. The knot broke, the voices in his head disappeared, replaced by a powerful, irregular thud that throbbed throughout his brain and his spine.

 

His limbs drained of their energy, he let his body fall down into a trembling heap with a short sigh. He felt the love and the guilt, the relief and the shame, he felt everything all at once, and he knew he had fended them off. For the time being.

 

***

 

She was looking at her hands, so much resentment bubbling in the pit of her stomach she refused to put them under the stream of hot water. She had been abducted by an alien she obviously knew nothing about. No way out, she was the prisoner of a madman in a flying blue box and she was bound to remain his prisoner for as long as he would fancy having her around. She should have killed him while she could. If she didn’t wash her hands thoroughly, like he had asked her to, maybe she still had an opportunity to take his life and find a way back home. Her palm was still covered with a thin layer of the white powder. Some was stuck under her nails. She could try to scratch him, deep, lacerate his skin so the poison would seep into his system. Clasp her hand over his mouth and his nose, so he would breath it in, taste it, swallow it. 

 

It happened, fast. One moment, she was making up plans to kill him, the next she was staring at her hand in horror, wondering why she had even devise such horrible and gut-wrenching plans. All the hatred in her heart vanished, replaced by an overwhelming guilt. She loved him. No matter what he had said, no matter what he had done, she loved him. She had wanted to murder him. A desire so strong and consuming she had never felt a better satisfaction than when imagining his dead body lying on the cold tiles. Why? What had he said? What had he done to deserve such hatred? She couldn’t remember. The memories were a blurry mess of images and sounds that made no sense. Her brain felt empty. As if the past hour had just been a nightmare she wanted to forget. It had to be. Just a nightmare.

 

She grabbed the brush hanging on the faucet and hurried to rub her hands, hard and fast, squeezing half a bottle of shower gel over them to make sure no trace of aspirin would survive. She rubbed, scrubbed, rinced and repeated all those actions several times until her skin turned bright red and two bottles of gel were emptied and thrown away into the nearby sink.

 

She gasped when she heard the door click open and hurried to snatch a towel to wrap her soaked body away from his eyes.

  
  


“Not looking,” he reassured her, voice rough and unevenly pitched. “Just brought you clean clothes. How’s your head, love?”

“I… Dunno,” she shrugged, suddenly very aware that an oppressing feeling at the back of her skull was gone. “Fine, I suppose. Doctor, I… What happened?”

“Ah, well, that’s a long story,” he smiled at his reflection in the mirror, seeing in the burst blood vessels in his eyes and his exhausted features the consequences of what was bound to be a long, very long tale. “The fifteen minutes are gone, love. Just dry yourself up and join me in the bedroom. I made some tea.”

“Doctor, wait, I… I just… I didn’t...”

“It’s alright, my Hulis. I know you didn’t. I didn’t either. Go on, before the tea gets cold, eh?”

  
  


She hurried to do as he had told her, made a quick job of drying her body and slipping into the clothes he had set aside for her - she washed her hands once more with a heavy blob of soap, for good measure. She silently walked into the bedroom, and the heavy atmosphere was enough to remind her something had gone terribly awry not so long before. Still, she couldn’t remember. Worry bloomed in her stomach at the sight of him, sitting on the edge of the bed, head bowed low, hands loosely clasped over his knees. He looked miserable, despite the smile that tugged at his lips when he noticed her.

  
  


“Come over here, love,” he said, pointing his chin at the empty space next to him. “I didn’t know how you liked your tea, so there’s a bit of everything. How are you, my Rose?”

“I…” she started, slowly sitting down next to him. “I washed my hands.”

  
  


She offered her palms up, as if she wanted him to check they were free of any poison. He simply brought one to his lips and pressed an open-mouth kiss on her skin. She felt his unwavering trust, his raw love in that kiss, and she wondered how she could have ever thought he had hurt her in any way.

  
  


“Milk, sugar?” he offered after he laced her fingers between his. 

“Neither,” she shrugged with a sheepish smile, shuffling closer to him.

“Of course. Sorry about the clothes, it seems the Tardis isn’t quite up-to-date when it comes to human fashion.”

“That’s alright, it’s actually pretty comfy.”

“Right. Comfy’s good, brilliant. I, uh… Biscuits? Cake?”

  
  


He tried to disguise his anxiety under a chuckle, but the way his trembling hand made the teapot clink and the splashes of tea stain the carpet betrayed him. She guided his hand so he could set his teapot down on the bedside table, and she shook her head when he opened his mouth to protest.

  
  


“Doctor, how about you tell me what happened?”

“Well, nothing, really,” he dismissed with a sniff and a wave of his hand.

“I wanted to kill you,” she said, searching for his eyes that refused to look at her. “I wanted to see you dead. And that wasn’t soulmate stuff, Doctor, you know that better than I do. That’s not nothing. What happened?”

“It’s a long story, Rose, and… It shouldn’t be any of your concern, really.”

“You’ve stuck things in my head and I tried to kill you, excuse-me but that sounds very much like it concerns me.”

“Mentalfield dampeners.”

“Sorry?”

“The devices I put into your skin,” he started to explain, lifting her wet strands of hair to make sure they hadn’t moved. “Mentalfield dampeners. They block mind signals, so the waves your brain emits aren’t broadcasted too far, and so it doesn’t receive others unless the person is close to you. It’s to protect you, love. Protect us.”

“From?” she asked, fingers hovering over the side of her neck.

  
  


He sighed, long and low, and pressed a soft kiss on her cheek before he went to one of his cupboards. She watched as he rummaged for a long minute through several boxes she supposed to be full of knick-knacks, and he came back with a box filled with items of different sizes, different shapes, some brand new, some old, some broken. He dropped his box on the bed, hopped on the cover to sit cross-legged against a cushion and invited he to sit next to him. 

  
  


“The story starts when I was ten,” he said with a smile borrowed from melancholy itself. “With this.”

  
  


He took out a long jet-black quill that looked a bit rumpled, its tip broken, its nib rolling in his palm still stained with dried ink. He brushed the pad of his thumb over the Gallifreyan circles engraved in the precious metal, and let the many memories he had shared wit that quill bring a nostalgic tear to his eyes. She didn’t ask what it was, simply snuggled close to his side and rested her head against his shoulder.

  
  


“Those circles mean  _ Doctor _ ,” he said, carefully putting the nib in the crook of her hand. “I inherited that thing from my father. I don’t think he ever knew what it meant, but I did. I was ten when I was sent to the Academy by my uncle. My parents had died, because they never got the chance to study and get a better life, they never got any help from anyone. So when I got this quill, I promised on their tombs I would be the Doctor they never knew. I promised them I would help people and make their lives better. I was given the chance to do some good in this universe, and I wasn’t about to let that chance go to waste. That was about the same time my soulmark started to show.”

  
  


He bent to the side to pull the drawer of the bedside table open and took out one of the necklaces he had taken off her neck. He flipped the locket open and carefully picked up the small piece of parchment he unfolded before her.

  
  


“That was the first word I truly mastered,” he remembered, picturing that one time he had drawn the symbol with so much perfection it looked better than any print in any book. “It means  _ love _ . When I drew that, that was when I knew I loved you. So, I had to work. Both so I could be a good Doctor to people, and a good lover to my soulmate. I worked so hard, Rose. That’s all I ever did, for almost four hundred years. I learnt everything I could from books, learnt the rest from people who didn’t mind sharing their knowledge with me.”

“You must have been good at exams,” she giggled playfully to lighten the mood, nuzzling the side of his neck with the tip of her nose.

“No, I wasn’t good,” he shook his head, folding his parchment to tuck it back in its locket. “I was the best. Perfect scores, that’s all I ever got. Except once. That one paper about Earth you keep in a frame on your desk. That one earned me a void.”

“How come?”

“All I ever wrote about in my papers was your planet, because I knew you were there. The Drudge, he was called, because nobody liked geography. Gave me a void because he wanted me to write about another planet. So I did, wrote about Gullipso, got that perfect. I never stopped writing about Earth, though.”

  
  


He reached into his box and picked up a heavy volume, the leather cover stained with ts of melted candle, the corners of the pages so wrinkled she believed he must have sifted through it a thousand times.

  
  


“I know that book,” she said, running a finger under the title -  _ Naturalis Historia _ . “I tried reading it once, got bored after two pages.”

“A friend, Kip, gave it to me,” he smiled as he brushed some dust away with the back of his hand. “There was bet going around the whole Academy that I would be the first to get the Kronos medal.”

“What is it?”

“The medal you’re awarded when you get perfect grades in every subject the Academy teaches. No one managed such a feat in over twelve millenia.”

“But you did, is that what you’re implying?”

  
  


He only smiled, and unfolded a large crimson dress that had been lying at the bottom of the box. He took out a large headpiece as well - which she found rather ridiculous, but she kept that thought to herself. 

  
  


“Time Lord dress,” he enlightened her, mistaking her frown of distaste for a grimace of confusion. “That’s the point of the Academy. Sign up as a nobody, sign out as one of the most respected citizen of the planet. It’s a very long and very difficult curriculum, only about five percent of the students go through the whole thing. I wanted that dress, because it meant I would get my Tardis, and I would get to fly to Earth to meet you. I became the Doctor when I got this.”

  
  


He crowned her head with his headpiece, a small laugh rising in his throat when the too-large piece fell over her eyes, and he shoved a pin the shape of an hourglass into her hand.

  
  


“That’s your prize, after four hundred years of pain and sorrow,” he giggled, helping her attach the pin on her oversized sweatshirt. “What a reward, eh?”

“What about the medal?” she asked as she pushed the heavy headpiece up of her forehead so she could look at the gleaming badge on her chest. “Did you get it?”

“Oh yes,” he nodded, taking out a long chain from which a large pendant was hanging. “It looks rather old, because it’s actually ancient. It slept in a showcase for twelve thousand years, I think I heard it thank me when it was put around my neck.”

“That’s… That’s truly impressive, Doctor, but…”

“You’re wondering what this has got to do with any of what happened, right?”

  
  


His grin quivered and he hurried to weave their fingers together, waiting until she had taken off the headpiece and had moved to sit cross-legged in front of him She offered a shy smile and cocked her head to the side. He took a deep breath, and he confessed.

  
  


“I’m a criminal,” he let out in a whisper, finding barely enough comfort in the squeezes of her hand around his. “I got the Kronos medal. I’m clever. Probably the cleverest Time Lord that ever lived. And because I’m clever, they wanted me to be the new head of his Lordship’s military. But that would have meant… Never leaving Gallifrey.”

“How did you get here, then?” she asked softly as she brought her free hand to the side of his face.

“I stole my Tardis. I fled the planet. Both are… Highly punishable deeds. What happened…”

  
  


He momentarily bit the inside of his cheeks and cleared his throat several times, until it loosened enough for words to keep flowing.

  
  


“They found me,” he admitted, leaning into her touch. “The Time Guards. They found us. When I said you smell, Rose, I just meant they  _ felt  _ you. I’m sorry I said those horrible things to you, I never meant any of it. It wasn’t me, I swear to you, my Hulis.”

“I don’t remember any of it,” she reassured him with a quick kiss on his knuckles. “I just remember… I wanted you to take me home. And I wanted to kill you.”

“That wasn’t really you either, love. It was them. The Tardis can only do so much to hide herself, and I didn’t realize it would be easier for them to get to me if… If you were there, too. What happened? That wasn’t us, Rose. It was only them. They took possession of our minds to pinpoint our location. They wanted me to take you home so they’d just have to pick me up on Earth. That’s why I had to implant mindfield dampeners in your head. Why I spent some time in the Antichamber. I’ve fought them off. For now.”

“You mean… They’re gonna come back?”

“They won’t stop until I’m either made a slave, or dead.”

“But you’ll find a way around this, right? You’re clever, right, the cleverest, you have to find a way.”

  
  


He hugged her tight against his chest just so he could hide his tears, and he basked for a long minute into the feeling of her arms around his chest, of her warmth seeping through their clothes, of her hot lips in the crook of his neck.

  
  


“I’ll try, my Hulis,” he whispered against the top of her head. “I promise, I’ll try.”

 

 

* * *


	21. Mechanics

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for not having uploaded this in so long, but life's been pretty busy for a while!
> 
> So, here goes a chapter that's a bit longer than usual - and the next chapter should be posted soon!
> 
> Thank you for your patience, and thanks for reading!  
> I hope you'll enjoy it!

* * *

 

 

“I’m sorry we can’t go back to your place to... Get your things,” he apologized softly as he handed her a small pile of neatly folded clothes. “I didn’t know… I didn’t think…”

“It’s alright, Doctor,” she hurried to reassure him with a smile, taking the pile from his hands. “These actually look better than what I have back there. Thank you.”

“Right. Well, you know your way to the bathroom. I’ll prepare your bed and I’ll… I’ll…”

  
  


He stopped to take a deep breath to fuel his words, but despite his best efforts, it got stuck halfway down his throat. She splayed a hand on his heaving chest, cupped his cheek with the other, and cocked her head to the side with a worried frown.

  
  


“Doctor? Are you okay?” she asked, the quick rise and fall of his chest doing little to alleviate her concern.

“Fine, fine,” he nodded as she quickly loosed the knot of his tie and unbuttoned his jacket, thinking that would help him breathe more easily. “Still not used to having only two lungs, but it’s fine.”

“How do you mean,  _ only  _ two lungs?”

“I’m supposed to have three, but one stopped working when the Time Guards overloaded my system,” he enlightened her with a sheepish shrug. “Lost a kidney, too, and probably a third of my visual acuity.”

  
  


He didn’t miss the horror that was taking possession of her features and the panic that filled her eyes, and he realized that, indeed, those weren’t exactly words to reassure a human with close to no regenerative capacities. 

  
  


“Oh, no don’t worry, it’s fine, I promise it’s fine, in two days’ time they’ll all be fixed,” he hurried to tell her, offering a smile he wanted to be cheerful. “Go on, now, pyjamas and bed, Rose Tyler, it’s late back on Earth.”

“Where are yours?” she raised an eyebrow at him before she unfolded the tee-shirt and cotton pants he had given her - she wasn’t entirely convinced by his assertion, but not in any mood to fight him over it. “Pyjamas? You promised this’d be  _ our  _ bed, Doctor. And… I don’t really want to be alone tonight.”

“Rose, I… I can’t sleep. I need to find a solution, I need to find a way out of this mess. They’re gone for now, they can’t trace us now that we’re in the Time Vortex, but…”

“So we’re safe, right now,” she interrupted before he could develop his arguments any further. “Please, Doctor. Please. I need you to hold me. I want you next to me. Just tonight. Please.”

  
  


He opened his mouth to offer a half-hearted protest he wouldn’t really mean but, before the words could take shape, her fingers were on his tie to fully untie it and slide it through his collar. He couldn’t find it in him to stop her, not when she pushed his jacket off his shoulders and dropped it on the bed, not when she took the initiative to pop out the first few buttons of his shirt. She looked at him, an almost shy smile on her lips, an incentive for him to continue what she had started. He did, and their fingers brushed softly, hands meeting halfway on their quiet and slow path.

 

They were safe, for now. For now, he could forget about all those things that would inevitably plague him the morning later, when he’d wake up with this cursed benediction this woman was in his arms. Forget why he detested himself, remember why he loved her. 

 

His fingers lost their rhythm, his lungs lost just enough oxygen to remind him one was missing, his eyes lost their focus on her face. He wished her beauty wasn’t as compelling, as captivating. He wished she hadn’t this power over him, to reduce him to weak flesh quivering with sparks of raw desire and violent love. He tried not to look, but every time his eyes fleeted away from the skin she had revealed, shucking off her jumper, they returned to it faster, with more urgency and more of these punches in his guts. Faster, until he couldn’t take his eyes off at all any longer. He looked. Oh, he had seen more of her body, when he had stolen that image through her eyes. He perfectly remembered how her breasts looked like under the black lace. He forgot what had happened not so long before, he forgot about the morning later. All he could remember, all he could think of in that moment was born from that base, consuming feeling he had never felt before. He wanted to take that lace off. Properly see what was underneath, touch, taste, squeeze, lick, bite. Love.

  
  


“You should wait until I’m not looking, my love,” he managed to murmur, almost as if he didn’t want her to hear what that dying little voice in his head compelled him to say -  _ you’re not a primitive ape like human males are, Doctor, you’re more than that _ . “You should… I think you should…”

“Is nudity taboo on your planet?” she asked with a hesitant grin - she wanted the question to be a taunt but, to her dismay and embarrassment, it seemed he still had trouble discerning such nuances in words.

“Much more than it is on Earth, from what I’ve gathered,” he shrugged, to him the question a much deserved opportunity to redirect his thoughts to safer territories. “I mean… I don’t know. We never really think about it, you see, because unlike humans we never need to be naked. In your time, humans gets naked for lots of reasons that wouldn’t make sense to most of my people. I think… Yes, it must be taboo, in the sense that we never talk about it, nor would we dare ever get naked if anyone were around to see it.”

“Oh, I’m… Sorry, I didn’t know this would make you uncomfortable. I’ll just… Yeah, bathroom, then.”

  
  


He winced at his own lack of tact - and, should he dare admit, at how rude he must have sounded when all he wanted was to tell her he didn’t mind her nudity and that he would gladly dare get naked if she were the one around to see it. But before he could, she hurried to cover her body with her large jumper and offered a tense smile before she turned on her feet. He didn’t have enough time to understand why he felt disappointed, why he felt panicked, why he felt upset. He just had enough time to catch her wrist and stop her in the middle of her first step.

  
  


“I’m not like my people, my Hulis” he said softly, suddenly remembering what he had thought, what he had felt at the sight of her skin. “It doesn’t make me uncomfortable. It makes me… Want to touch you. Like this... “

  
  


When he was sure she wouldn’t walk away, he let go of her wrist and took a short step forward, moulded his chest against her back and nestled his chin in the crook of her shoulder. Her smell was distracting, the scent of his own shower gel teasing his nostrils to remind him, to awaken an odd feeling of greed, of possessiveness, Rose was there, and Rose was his. Not distracting enough to ignore the shivers that coursed through her skin and the stutter in her breath, and just when he thought he might have been too bold, maybe wrongly assuming she needed the reassurance he wasn’t made squeamish by a bit of bare skin, she let her head fall back on his shoulder and offered the column of her throat to his lips. Relieved, he pressed a smiling kiss along the line of her neck and let his fingertips slide on the velvet of the inside of her forearms.

  
  


“You’re so soft,” he whispered as he kept exploring the skin of her arms with light brushes of his fingers. “So warm. Everytime I touch you with my hands… I want more. I wish I could touch you everywhere at once, I wish I could… Hold you close, and feel all your warmth and your softness. The more skin you show me, the more I want to see. And.. I’m so sorry, my love, I just can’t seem to be able to control them just yet. These  _ urges _ . These very human desires. They’re just so hard to master. You, bare, it doesn’t make me uncomfortable. It makes me aroused, and I don’t want you to be uncomfortable because of me and my stupid urges to act upon these desires. Do you… Do you understand?”

  
  


She hummed, a seemingly content hum, and slowly spun around in the lose embrace of his arms. Her smile soothed his fear his confession might make the situation awkward, and he welcomed her hands on his heated cheeks with a breathy laugh. It died, quickly, when he realized her cupping his face in her warm palms meant she had let her jumper fell at their feet.

  
  


“I understand,” she said softly, brushing her thumbs around his cheekbones - and her smile twitched when she saw his eyes struggling to remain firmly fixed on her forehead. “But please, don’t be sorry, my Doctor. Because if you are, I’ll have to be, too, and I don’t want to be sorry for wanting to love your body just as much as I love you. Do you understand?”

“I’m afraid not. I don’t understand much about the human libido system, you see. I’m familiar with the chemistry of it, the science behind pheromones and sexual attraction, but I’ve never…”

“Gosh, don’t make it sound so technical, Doctor,” she interrupted with a chuckle, amused by his incessant need to draw everything back to science and facts. “What I meant is… I feel the same for you. It doesn’t need explaining, it just happens. It’s not about chemistry, it’s about you and me. We’re soulmates, we love each other, that’s all that really matters, yeah?”

“You want to have sex, that’s what you’re implying, right?” he asked - if it weren’t for his serious frown and matter-of-fact voice, she would have gladly believed he was joking. “Okay, the condoms and the lubricant are in the drawer, the room is at a suitable temperature and… Oh yes, my erectile efficiency seems to be particularly good today. Do you want to see my penis first? Or should I start arousing you so your body produces enough secretions for the penetration? We should…”

“Okay, I can’t say I know much more than you about sex, but I can assure you that’s not the way to go, Doctor,” she shook her head, horrified, awkwardly shoving him away with a firm push on his chest. “I know you want to get this right, I want that, too, but this… This isn’t right. Nope, not at all, don’t want to have sex, thanks. Now just… Shush, and turn around, ‘m gonna take off my bra.”

  
  


He opened his mouth, ready to spill out a profusion of apologies, but she already was reaching behind her back to unhook the lace and he hurried to twirl on his feet. It was only when the sound of ruffling clothes died, only when he was sure she was safely tucked under the covers that he allowed his eyes to drift to her. The only parts of her he could see was a tuft of blond hair and a set of fingers clutching the duvet. Well, at least the unwanted feelings and awkward desires wouldn’t be a problem.

  
  


“Come on, get in bed, Doctor, we need to sleep,” she mumbled into her pillow, voice lined with a thread of flustered annoyance she couldn’t hide.

  
  


He offered a nod she couldn’t see, took of his shoes, his socks, stashed them under the bed. He popped the last few buttons holding his shirt closed, unbuttoned his trousers, pulled down the fly, shoved them down his legs. And he realized he was as underwear-less as he had been the night before.

  
  


“I’m, uh, naked, so if you could, keep your eyes closed...” he managed to say after swallowing his embarrassment, hurrying towards a cupboard to find pyjamas he had never worn before but was glad to put on. “Okay, I’m decent, you can open them. Well, not that I want you to look or anything, I’m just saying you can, but of course… Now I need to shut up and join you, is that right?”

“I think your mouth works faster than your brain, Doctor,” she couldn’t help but giggle through her dwindling frustration. “You should keep it shut until you’ve thought twice about what you’re going to say, you know.”

“I can try, but no promise,” he smiled, a small sheepish smile, as he finally plopped down on the bed and snuggled under the cover.

  
  


The previous night, it had been easy to find a comfortable position in her tiny bed made for one. In that moment, after such a disastrous series of unfortunate conversations, his large bed made for them felt too small. He was scared to get too close, he didn’t know if he could kiss her goodnight, didn’t even know if he could touch her. He decided to bite his lips should wrong words want to come out of his mouth again, and to slip his hands under his pillow should they want to wander somewhere they weren’t expected or wanted. If he hadn’t felt uncomfortable earlier, he definitely was now, lying in heavy silence next to a body and a soul he craved but had to pretend weren’t calling out for him.

 

He was forgetting one thing, one important thing. Rose was his soulmate. She knew him. She felt him. She loved him. 

 

He sucked in a breath when she shuffled close to him, slipped a leg between his, pressed her body tight against his chest, wrapped an arm around his waist. There, resting on his side with his soulmate cradled against him, with her lips dropping quick and soft kisses on his cheeks, on his chin, on his nose, with one of her fingers teasing his hip just above the line of his pants, he understood what had happened. 

  
  


“I panicked,” he admitted through a soft breath, catching her eyes before they could flutter shut. “I didn’t know I would. It’s never happened before. I’m sorry.”

“What’s never happened before?” she asked just as softly as she slipped a hand under his pillow to find his own.

“Me, not knowing something. In this particular case, not knowing what to say or what to do to engage in traditional human sexu....”

“Yes, okay, stop, you’re doing it again,” she cut through the words she refused to hear a single time more from his mouth for a small eternity. “I think… You’re really thinking about this way too much, Doctor. You’re looking at it the wrong way. This isn’t something you plan, you don’t need a scientific briefing beforehand, you don’t think of it as a biology experiment you need to set up. Just… Forget about sex. We won’t ever have sex.”

“Won’t we?” he asked with a confused frown, quite sure she had already mentioned her desire to share such physical moments with him.

“Never,” she insisted. “I don’t want to have sex with a doctor who’s going to tell me all about my pheromones and bodily secretions. I want to make love to my Doctor, who’s going to tell me he loves me. Look… I know you said all that stuff because you care, and I love you for that. But… It just doesn’t feel right, you know?”

“Then what does? Rose, my love, this is one of the things only you can teach me. Please, help me get this right. Please, my Hulis.”

  
  


He knew he sounded desperate, he knew his eyes, his face spoke of the urgent supplication his words wouldn’t translate, and he knew that never again he would need to ask her for answers, because he would make sure he wouldn’t. He hated those feelings. Hopeless, clueless. He supposed they were perfectly reasonable and harmless feelings when it came to not knowing what colour Rose wanted the bedroom curtains to be, or what brand of toothbrush Rose prefered. But this was important. He needed this answer more than he would need any other for the rest of his long life.

  
  


“Remember this morning?” she raised an eyebrow, her shy smile and the light blush on her cheeks doing little to enlighten him. “When you woke up. When we were in the car.”

“I… Do?”

“There goes your answer, my clever Doctor.”

“Wait, what? What answer? Rose, I don’t get…”

“Goodnight,” she cut through a litany she was sure would go on forever, or at the very least until she put precise words on what she had meant. “I love you, my Doctor. Wake me up if… You lose another lung or, you know, if you need anything. And… Don’t leave. Please.”

”Of course I won’t,” he sighed in defeat, perfectly aware he wouldn’t get any more from her, frustrated but not enough to keep his adoration and fondness for his beautiful soulmate at bay. “I love you too, my Hulis. More than anything. Sleep well.”

“Hm, you too, my Doctor.”

  
  


The lights dimmed on their own, impenetrable darkness swallowed every little nook and corner of the bedroom, a darkness he couldn’t have seen through even with his full visual acuity. He had never liked complete darkness. In that moment, he liked it even less. Deprived of sight, all he could focus on were the sounds, the smells, the physical sensations. How the hum of the ship felt too loud in his ears, an incessant and single-pitched buzz that would have driven him mad in a minute if it hadn’t been accompanied by the sound of her steady breathing. How her smell, that was also partly his, tickled his nostrils, and got stuck in his throat on the way down to his lungs. He could add tastes to the list of things that would deny him even the lightest of naps. Because that smell he loved travelled along his own breath, into his mouth, and coated his tongue with a delicious tang that made him wish he could properly lick her skin. Again. Not a good wish to have when her body was close, too close. How she still was wrapped around him, fingers on his hip, fingers on the top of his chest, leg between his, toes against his calf, forehead over his chin. Whole body pressed tight against his. Warm. Comfy. Reassuring. Wonderful. So wonderful. Oh, how much he loved her. 

 

And there was the feeling again. The violent, relentless need to be even closer. The surge of love, an acid torrent swirling in his stomach, an angry rush of blood to the head. His body roared, his mind screamed. 

 

_ Making love _ .  That was what Rose had told him. And he thought he understood. Make love. Create physical love. Scoop up all those feelings overflooding his system, all that love dripping from his hearts, flowing from his mind, oozing from his pores. Take it all, all those things he couldn’t hold inside and give them to her. Touch her, carve his adoration into her skin with his fingertips. Kiss her, breathe his devotion into her body. Tell her, voice his passion, though words, through sounds, through noises. Share it, rather than letting it go to waste, missing an opportunity to show her, make her feel what he felt.

 

But all of that would only be physical. Very human. He wasn’t human. He was a Time Lord, with a Time Lord body, but more importantly a Time Lord soul. And if he remembered that one chapter he had skimmed without much enthusiasm or interest two centuries before…

  
  


“ _ Liluina _ ,” he whispered, the word coming out of his mouth as soon as he remembered it.

  
  


He winced when she stirred against him, and he prayed she wouldn’t ask any questions about that word. He thought he had felt humiliated and embarrassed enough for the day, and he highly doubted she would appreciate a lecture about ancient Time Lord sexual mechanics.

  
  


“Wha’ was that, Doctor?” she mumbled against his skin after a sigh that sounded both amused and resolute. “Don’t say  _ nothing _ , I heard you.”

“ _ Liluina _ ,” he repeated a bit louder, preparing his mind to face a conversation he knew would be just as awkward as the previous ones. “I’ve just remembered. It’s… A Time Lord thing I’ll need to tell you about before we… Make love.”

“Right,” she nodded, disentangling herself from his body to reach over him and turn on a lamp. “Well, go on, then, Doctor. Might as well get it out of the way now that we’re here.”

“It’s… You probably won’t like it much, my love. I’ll have to use, er, precise words.”

“It’s fine, Doctor, yeah?” she said softly as she pushed herself up, sitting against the headboard. “I know it’s not easy for you, this whole thing, I understand. Take your time, be as precise as you need to be. I’d rather we do this now than in the middle of it, to be honest.”

“Okay, yes, well…”

  
  


He took a deep breath to fuel his two remaining lungs as best as he could, pushed on his elbows to sit next to her. He folded his hands over his lap, looking down at his fingers, anxiously wiggling. He knew it wouldn’t be an easy conversation to have, but he knew just as much they needed to have it. At least, that would be a conversation they’d only need to have once. He smiled softly when she closed her own fingers around his to stop their stressed drum, sneaked a quick look at her face to see her small smile and her soft eyes that gave him the necessary bravery he needed to embark on that unsteady ship.

  
  


“So, um, first, you should know that Time Lords, well, Gallifreyans in general… They don’t have sex,” he started, relieved to feel a caress of encouragement over his hand when he had expected her to let it go. “Or very rarely. Some of the lowest social class might, but when they do,  _ if _ they do, it’s only to conceive children. Having sex is not a criminal offense, but it might as well be.”

“But… How do your people have children, then?” she asked - he grimaced at her question as if he had dreaded it, but the genuine interest in her voice convinced him to answer.

“I’m sad to say, it depends on your rank and your bank account,” he shrugged, unable to look into her eyes he felt weighing on him. “If you’re important, and if you have money, your child will be loomed. The parents invest fortunes to create their child. We have what we call an Orgue. There’s a database of physical, mental, intellectual and emotional TNA alleles you can pick to create the baby of your dreams. Once you’ve designed your baby, it’s loomed in a nursery pod for two years, and the parents just have to pick it up. Birth without all the inconvenient pains of labor and delivery, baby without the shame and disgust sex entails.”

“This is… Horrible? I mean, I’m sorry if this sounds rude, but… Where’s the joy of having a baby in that?”

“Babies are not made for joy, on Gallifrey. Like I said, it’s just an investment. Ensure you perpetuate your lineage, keep the money in the family, protect your rank and status. Emotional attachment can happen, of course, but it’s usually rare.”

“What about you and your parents? Were you… Loomed?”

“Rassilon, no, my parents were too poor for that,” he chuckled, concealing his bitterness under a playful shove of his shoulder. “No, I’m the product of an insemination. My parents didn’t get to chose. An egg and a sperm, picked to the whims of the Meddler. Apart from the very few who conceive naturally, which as far as I know amounted to a grand total of two couples when I left the planet, your parents are never your biological parents.”

“But your parents… They wanted you, right? You told me they loved you, didn’t you?”

“They wanted another pair of hands to take care of the crops.  _ Investment _ , my Hulis. But I believe they loved me. As much as a Gallifreyan parent can love their child, anyway. So, all of that to say, Gallifreyans don’t have sex, they haven’t for a few millennia. But my point is, they used to, and they still can even though they don’t.  _ I _ still can. And I need to tell you… How it’s going to be, making love with me. I need your consent.”

“I hope this sounds scarier than it actually is, Doctor,” she tried to joke, only ending up smiling tightly and clearing her throat instead of laughing.

  
  


He gently brought her closer to his chest, caught her hand to lift it to his mouth to press a kiss of reassurance on her fingers. He understood her fears, much like she understood his. It made him feel slightly better about the whole situation, because he wasn’t walking down this road of doubts and difficulties alone. He was holding her hand, as tight as she was holding his. They would get through this necessary evil together, and when they would finally get past that important crossing, they would look back at it and only see a fading memory of wobbly first steps that would quickly be forgotten. 

  
  


“You have nothing to be scared of, my love, it’s just important,” he comforted her, and wrapped his arms tight around her when she snuggled even closer to his chest. “Most of the physical aspect will be the same as humans, so that should be fine. The difference is… Because I love you so much, because you’re my soulmate and we will always share more than just physical affection, I’ll need more than just… Your body. I’ll need your mind, too.  _ Liluina _ . The joining of souls. That’s why I need your consent. Even if you’re my soulmate, I can’t invade your mind without asking first. Oh, and even when Gallifreyans had sex, it was never meant to be pleasurable. The point was to make a baby, you see, and nature made it so that… Well… That’s embarrassing.”

“It’s okay, Doctor, keep going,” she encouraged softly, rubbing her hand on his arm.

“Right, then… Females produced a single egg every twenty years and males produced fertile sperm twice in a year. So, the only way to make sure the union would be fruitful was the  _ liluina _ . They would join their souls and the female would send a signal to the male to let him know he could ejaculate. When it comes to us, that means I will need to link my mind to yours if I’m to orgasm the same way you would expect a human man does. At least that’s what was written in my book. My people never talks about sex, thinks it’s repugnant, so Rassilon knows if this theory is accurate or not. But just in case, I want to make sure you know what can happen and that you’re fine with it. So… Are you?”

“I am, of course I am, my Doctor,” she answered before she pressed a quick kiss on the side of his neck. “But how will I… Send the signal? Can I even send it, given I’m human? Will you even be able to join our minds that way?”

“Well, there’s only one way we can find out, to be perfectly honest,” he shrugged with a sheepish smile, drawing circles on her arm with his fingertip. “And now that we’re here talking as responsible adults, I should add it would be better if we used condoms until I make sure I can’t impregnate you if we’re not bonded or my sperm is not fertile. I’m sorry we have to talk about this, my Rose, and I’m sorry I’ve just remembered that aspect of my biology. I simply want to make this first experience as smooth and pleasurable for you as I can, especially since we’ll have to figure out so much on our own.”

“Is that all?” she asked, a tender grin on her lips, rolling over to straddle his thighs and splay her hands against his chest. “No alien tentacles hidden in your pants, no dangerous sperm, no deadly viruses?”

“Depends on what your definition of tentacle is, I suppose,” he teased between giggles, her sudden light-heartedness enough to trigger his own relief. “But no, none of that.”

“Then we’ll be fine, my Doctor. Thank you for telling me. You’re amazing. A bit  _ too  _ cautious, maybe, but amazing. Now you just need to figure what’s the difference between….”

“I already did,” he interrupted her before she could continue - and was he glad to erase the surprise from her face with a smiling kiss. “Making love, my Rose. Not sex, we can’t have sex. But making love? Rassilon, we’re going to be so good at it.”

“Are we, now?”

“Oh yes, we are. The best, even. We have to be, because no one in the universe can love as much as we love each other, my Hulis.”

“Show me.”

“I… Pardon?”

“Show me, Doctor.”

  
  


His smile disappeared from his face, replaced by a gaping mouth. His hands he only then realized had been stealing soft touches on her bare hips stopped moving. He didn’t know if he was horrified she would ask that of him so soon, or thrilled she would want him to properly show her all those things he had figured out. Her weight on his lap, her heat around his body, her hands on his cheeks, her eyes boring into his with that one hint of challenge, that one spark of desire, that one shade of shyness. He didn’t try to stop it. His body wanted to love her. His entire being wanted to love her. She wanted it, too.

 

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, another low around her waist, and he pulled her higher up on his lap, high enough to light a spark of raging passion that made his hips jerk against hers. He didn’t quite notice, too busy capturing her full lips in soft, chaste kisses, that soon turned hungry, urgent. Oh yes. He would show her.

  
  


* * *

 


End file.
